


Burned In My Memory

by BensLostTookaCat (VillainTheBlank)



Series: Almost Heaven [1]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adoption, Burns, Depression, F/M, Frottage, HEA Guaranteed, Heart Attacks, Hospitals, Kissing, M/M, Mellie Logan was criminally underused in Logan Lucky, Mention of Suicide (oblique/conceptual), Misogyny, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rey is driving poor Finn to a nervous breakdown, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, alcohol use, minor finnpoe/stormpilot, penpals, prompted fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-13 02:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 69,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainTheBlank/pseuds/BensLostTookaCat
Summary: The fallout from the CMS job is brutal for Clyde Logan; here he is, stuck in prison, and his brother threw away everything he’d risked himself for, leaving him nothing but a criminal record to show for his pains. Mellie steps up to take care of her brother, and in the process of moving his things from the trailer to her house, she makes a surprising discovery: a shoebox full of letters.During his tours in Iraq, Clyde signed up for a penpal service as a way to cope with the loneliness and stress of being in such danger so far from home. As luck would have it, he got a penpal named Rey, a secondary school student in England. Ashisluck would have it, he lost contact with her due to the explosion that also cost him his hand.Sometimes, though, life just takes the long way.
Relationships: Clyde Logan & Jimmy Logan, Clyde Logan & Mellie Logan, Clyde Logan/Rey (Star Wars), Earl & Mellie Logan, Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: Almost Heaven [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619146
Comments: 139
Kudos: 176





	1. Mellie's Middle Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omegaling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omegaling/gifts), [flypaper_brain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flypaper_brain/gifts), [Killtheselights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killtheselights/gifts), [TheLadyoftheHouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyoftheHouse/gifts).

> ***This is a reposting of a deleted fic.***
> 
> Hey what's up, my little sister Vee asked me to repost this fic, since it came down when I killed my SaturnineFeline account. I'd planned to anyway, once it was done, since it was originally omegaling's prompt and I wanted them to have it, but... it's not done yet. I will be posting the final few chapters here as I complete them, so this fic's all plotted out, it's just not quite written yet.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy these in good health, and be kind to each other in the comments ok?! 
> 
> ~(TAFKA)SC
> 
> * * *
> 
> _This work contains transcriptions and embellishments of scenes from the film_ Logan Lucky. _No infringement is intended._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: alcohol use, invasion of privacy
> 
> * * *
> 
> _This chapter contains transcriptions and embellishments of scenes from the film_ Logan Lucky. _No infringement is intended._

Clyde woke up when the first buzzer went off on Tuesday morning; he lay still for a moment, waiting. To say that the job hadn’t gone to plan wasn’t the half of it. Still, the guards hadn’t come banging on his cell with his missing arm, fixin’ to haul him in front of another judge, so it looked like Jimmy had gotten his arm out after all. Clyde let himself breathe. Maybe it was all gonna be alright. Maybe Jimmy had outsmarted the Logan Curse. He stood up, got dressed, and got through his morning routine. Some of the guys on the cooking line had even saved him some burnt bacon to go with his eggs and grits, and for the first time in years, if not ever, Clyde allowed himself a little cautious optimism that the worst was over. He was almost halfway through his sentence. After that, he could go home and keep the promise he’d made to himself–never get involved in any more cauliflower business.

He sat down in a sparsely populated, quiet corner with his breakfast tray and had just dug in when the cafeteria TV broke in with a special news report that ruined everything.

_“Authorities have confirmed they have recovered the money stolen from the Charlotte Motor Speedway, in what some are calling ‘The Hillbilly Heist.’ Sources say an anonymous caller led police to this gas station, where they discovered an abandoned truck containing bags of cash that have been positively linked to the robbery over the weekend.”_

Clyde nearly choked on his eggs. Jimmy… had returned the money? What the hell?! He forced himself to swallow, then breathe. He kept his eyes locked on his tray; if he started freakin’ out, that would be it for him, they’d figure it out in a heartbeat, and he wouldn’t see the outside of this building for years. His mind spun, looking for anything Jimmy might have said or done to let him know that this was all part of the plan, but nothing made any sense at all.

His own words to his older brother a month before played in his head:_“Bein’ that I was your kid brother, I let you lead me into trouble with all your crazy cauliflower plans.” _

His jaw clenched as he remembered what Fish and Sam had said down there under the racetrack, when everything had gone wrong and Joe had sucked his arm off with that machine hose that he didn’t know how to handle. He knew the younger Fish brothers were just trying to point the finger at someone else, but damned if their words hadn’t hit a nerve; Clyde was always in Jimmy’s shadow, always had been, even once he’d been tall enough to tower over his older brother. He’d never blamed Jimmy for the loss of his arm. He’d blamed the Logan family curse for that, but this…

_“Hey, I’m your brother, alright? I’m always with you.” _

Well, _that_ certainly wasn’t true, from where Clyde was sitting — Jimmy sure as hell wasn’t behind bars. He’d only been sent down three months this time, instead of six, but he was still on the losing end of the whole thing, and now there was no payoff. Scowling and fuming silently, Clyde found he had no appetite for breakfast anymore — not even the bacon.

“What’s going on with you this morning? You sure don’t look like you feel good,” said the infirmary nurse as Clyde listlessly pushed the mop back and forth. He stiffened, then plunged the mop back into the water with a jerky slosh.

“I—I’m sorry, ma’am,” he ground out, his eyes never leaving the floor. “Family stuff on my mind.”

“Well, that won’t do!” she said, turning an appraising stare on him. “It must be bad, whatever it is, because you’re making a bigger mess than anything.”

Clyde found his breath coming up short, but he managed to force out a few words. “I’ll clean it up, ma’am, and I can go back to the desk—”

“I don’t think so,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “You come over here and have a seat.” Clyde’s eyes widened, and sweat prickled on his forehead. He looked up to see where she was pointing, and his feelings must have been written all over his face, because she put a hand on her hip and shook her head, the smallest smile on her face.

“I’m gonna take your vitals, and then I’ll call the chaplain so you have someone to talk it over with.”

Clyde sat down, miserable and nervous, his fist clenched to stop his hand shaking.

“Now. I’m gonna take your temperature and blood pressure.”

“It’s my niece,” Clyde blurted, startling himself and her.

“Wha— Your niece?”

“Sadie was… she was in a pageant this weekend, and I was supposed to go.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even know how she did or nothin’.”

“No one from your family called to tell you how she did?” said the nurse, her normally mild tone taking on an indignant twang.

“No, ma’am.”

He didn’t dare to look up at her, worried she might see the lie in his eyes, but he let his shoulders slump as he shook his head. Of course, it wasn’t entirely untrue — he rarely got to see his little spitfire of a niece since Jimmy and Bobbie Jo had divorced, and he _had _intended to go to the pageant… and no one from the family had been in touch with him, which was really the sore spot. No, it wasn’t untrue, but it certainly wasn’t the whole truth, not by a long shot.

“Well,” she hummed after a moment, her nails clacking on the desk. “I tell you what. Now you’ve got that off your chest, sit a minute, but then you got to put that behind you.” She began to work on her computer, pulling up a web browser long enough to go to Channel 8’s site. “Well, what do you know? The _Miss Pretty West Virginia_ pageant?”

Clyde’s head snapped up and he saw a picture of his niece, wearing a sash and a crown. He smiled, in spite of himself, and he nodded toward the screen.

“That’s Sadie.” He looked at the picture a little longer, then the corners of his mouth turned down just a little. “Can’t hardly see her little freckles with all that makeup on.”

“Now you know.” Her voice was warm again, but firm, and she closed the browser. “You better get back to it, now.”

Seeing little Sadie so happy did lift his spirits, at least long enough to finish his shift in the infirmary, but when dinner came around, and there was still no word from Jimmy or from Mellie, Clyde lapsed into silent brooding. He didn’t sleep well that night, and the next day, he was jumpy as a cat waiting for some kind of call or visit. A week passed, then two, and Clyde wasn’t doing much more than getting up, staring at three meals a day, robotically working through his duties, and going to bed at night. Still, there was no word. The news station would squawk about what they were calling “the heist” at least three nights a week, but they never mentioned any arrests or leads, which was the only way he knew that nothing had happened to Mellie or Jimmy.

By the beginning of the third week, his clothes were getting baggy (well, bagg_ier_), and the circles under his eyes were getting dark. He sat in his cell, failing to focus on the novel in his lap, when he heard a guard bark “Mail Call!” and saw a postcard flying at him. Clyde leaned over to pick it up, and his eyebrows lifted. On the front was a picture of Mellie slinging beers behind the bar of Duck Tape, and at the top of the other side, it said “HOLDING DOWN THE FORT.”

_I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I’ve been working nights. Sadie won the pageant, and then moved to Lynchburg. I’ll come pick you up. Love, Mellie. _

Clyde instantly felt guilty for having thought his baby sister’d done him wrong. She’d been keeping Duck Tape open, on top of seeing her hair clients, a thought that made him tingle in his chest. He really did have the best baby sister in the wide world. Turning the postcard back over, though, he noticed that Jimmy wasn’t behind the bar and someone else was sitting on his normal stool. She also hadn’t mentioned anything about him at all. Clyde’s heart sank. What had Jimmy done, if Mellie wasn’t even _mentioning_ him?

* * *

-About 3 weeks earlier-

_Jimmy Logan? Who’s Jimmy Logan? Don’t know him,_ Mellie fumed. He had the audacity to show up in her shop after what he’d done — after everything he’d put Clyde through? Put them all through? _No thank you, sir, you can keep right on walkin’! _she thought, flitting her fingers at him with a look of pure contempt on her face. He got the message and turned around and walked right back out. She wasn’t going to speak a word to him until she was good and ready, which wouldn’t be until after Clyde was out, and maybe not even then. (Mama, God rest her soul, had always said that Mellie was a sweet girl, but she could hold a grudge till Judgment Day, and she’d do the judging herself. Mama hadn’t been wrong).

Her heart ached for her middle brother; Clyde had always done whatever Jimmy wanted, and Jimmy had always let Clyde take the heat when he got caught. Sure, if anyone outside the two of them messed with Clyde, Jimmy took exception, but between the three of them, not as much. As a matter of fact, she was pretty sure that Jimmy didn’t even know she’d taken the keys Clyde had given her before he was sentenced and had reopened Duck Tape, with Earl’s help. Earl was the same as ever, calmly smoking his cigarettes on the porch every night but Sunday while Mellie kept him supplied with beer, but he wasn’t talking about Jimmy either. He hung around and took the trash out, both literally and figuratively, and that was enough for her.

She’d lock up the bar around 10 or 11, go home, pass out, and get up the next morning to do it all again. In this light, Clyde’s prison sentence was a prison sentence for her too, but that’s what family_ did_ — they were there for each other when times were tough. Not that Jimmy seemed to understand that; it hadn’t occurred to him even once to come by Duck Tape to make sure the place was still standing after he’d got Clyde thrown in jail. Before the job, Mellie had put off thinking about that too much — after all, he had the job to set up, so she could let it slide. After the job, though, she couldn’t help but resent it.

_Just as well he hasn’t been by, _she thought. _Saves me the trouble of tearing him a new one. _

She laid low for a couple of weeks after the job, just letting her double shifts carry her along, but one weekend, she asked Earl to come inside from the porch and use her phone to take a picture of her running Duck Tape to send to Clyde. Then, she had the photo counter at the drugstore print that on a postcard for her. Probably no one in the prison would recognize her; they’d think it was just a postcard, but Clyde would know. She mailed it, then waited for Jimmy’s next Sunday with Sadie to drive over to the trailer. Jimmy’s truck was gone, so she let herself in with Clyde’s key, carrying two boxes and two duffel bags, and she got to work. Clyde had always been pretty simple in his way of life, and she was able to fit his clothes in one duffel and his laundry hamper. She slung those into the trunk (she loved her middle brother, but did_ not _want to smell his dirty socks in her car), then went back to his room, stopping by the TV table to pick up some mail and a box addressed to him. She put those in one of the boxes she’d brought, then started to empty his bookcase. Clyde had all kinds of books: dragons, spaceships, and true crime paperbacks; a dusty old dictionary; a collection of magazines about outer space. They filled both boxes, and Mellie was grateful that she’d borrowed the dolly from Duck Tape; otherwise it would have been a struggle to get them out the door. It wasn’t easy, even with the dolly. Still, Clyde’s books were his prized possessions, and so she managed, hefting one into each side of the back seat. She went back in to collect the last duffel bag, and her eyes fell on his old army foot locker at the foot of his bed.

She was surprised to find it unlocked, and she was even more surprised to find it almost empty, save for a pair of velvet jewelry boxes and an old, battered shoebox. Inside the hinged cases were a pair of medals: a purple heart and a bronze star. The shoebox was dusty but light; it hadn’t been touched in a while. Mellie wondered if there was anything inside and gave it a gentle shake, only to be surprised at the rustle of what sounded like paper—and overwhelmed by a noseful of dust. She sneezed, and the box fell to the floor, tipping open and scattering crinkly, yellowing papers on the floor.

_Don’t look, _she told herself sternly. _That’s Clyde’s business. _

She stood frozen for a good 5 minutes, staring at the box and its contents, lost in her own internal struggle between her curiosity and Clyde’s privacy, when the screech of a nearby barn owl startled her. Jimmy could be back at any second, and he would find her in the middle of going through Clyde’s things. That was_ not _a conversation she wanted to have, not when she had so much to ream him for. She stuffed the papers back in the box pell mell, threw the medals on top, and hurried out of the trailer, locking the door behind her.

For the whole drive home, she couldn’t stop thinking about that box. As she dumped his dirty laundry in the washer, she wondered what kinds of papers were in there. As she wheeled the book boxes in with the dolly and wedged them against the dresser in the guest room, she found she was suddenly hungry to know what life had been like for him while he’d been away. He’d never said much, and she’d let him keep his peace, but it hadn’t meant she wasn’t curious. Not by a long shot.

_It would just be the right thing to do, to put back in order what had got messed up, right? _

Mellie gave in at last, one sculpted nail between her teeth in anticipation. She found newspaper clippings that she remembered Mama cutting out, any time Clyde’s division had been mentioned in the paper. Clyde’s dogtags were in there as well. The majority of the box’s contents, however, were handwritten papers, the scrawl unfamiliar. At the top were dates, though they were written the wrong way. Confining her eyes to the top left of the papers, Mellie started putting them in order by their dates, but was interrupted by the buzzer on the washing machine. When she picked up the stack of papers to continue after moving the laundry over, a short one caught her eye:

> _2 February 2009 _
> 
> _Dear Clyde, _
> 
> _I got your 14 Jan letter last week, and I was glad. It always amazes me how you take the time to write to a nobody like me when you face death every day and come out a hero. The office here lets me know when you do good things, you know, and that nice retired General Kenobi told me that you got yourself a medal for bravery — that you saved another man’s life. Your family must be very proud of you. Do you get to talk to them much? I hope you do. It’s hard when your family is so far away, and you wonder whether you’ll see them again. _
> 
> _That was rather mopey, wasn’t it? Anyway, I passed another exam last week. Even got a Level 2 on it because I got an A*. I’ve also been working on a car at the shop, a vintage Aston Martin, and it made me wonder what it would feel like to take it out on the open road and just floor it, leave everything behind, just for a few hours. Do you like to drive? Have you ever had a lark like that? This car isn’t going anywhere for awhile, if at all; she needs her whole engine block rebuilt. _
> 
> _My break’s almost up and I’m being called for; I have to go for now. I’ll write you again soon. _
> 
> _Your Friend, _
> 
> _Rey _

Mellie stared. Clyde had never once mentioned this Rey, but he? She? Mellie felt it must be a she, even though the writing wasn’t particularly girly. She felt like a kindred spirit — a woman who knew her way around the guts of cars and liked to drive them, too. In any case, clearly Rey was important to Clyde—he’d kept the letters, after all. She continued to sift and sort, and eventually she found the earliest one.

> _24 August 2008 _
> 
> _Dear Private Logan, _
> 
> _My name is Rey. I am a 15 year old girl, and I live in London, England. I got your name from an organisation that sponsors letter writing to allied soldiers deployed abroad, so I hope that you like receiving my letter, and that it finds you well. I wanted to write because it seems to me that being deployed to the middle of the desert could be very lonely sometimes, and it might be nice to hear the news from someplace else. _
> 
> _This past school year, I went into Year 10, and I’m working on my GSCEs, the tests we take to finish school. I’d like to take higher exams, and maybe go to college, but my guardian says it would be wasted on me. I’m a junior mechanic at his shop in Haringey. It’s hard work, but I like what I do — I’ve always liked cars and gears and pulling things apart and putting them back together. I went to the BIMS — that’s the International Motor Show — last month, but a lot of the models were luxury cars or just weird, and I was hoping for something a little sportier myself. _
> 
> _When I’m not at school or working, I’ve been following the Summer Olympics, and I try to make it a point to watch at least the fencing and the football competitions. Do you have a favorite Olympic sport? _
> 
> _I hope to hear back from you soon. _
> 
> _Sincerely, _
> 
> _Rey _

Mellie blew out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Fifteen was too young, wasn’t it? Then she snorted, rolling her eyes at herself. Of course she thought the world of Clyde and assumed any girl would be interested in him that way, but there was nothing here to say that Rey was anything but a good, thoughtful girl who wanted to bring some cheer into her brother’s life. She stood, then walked over to the kitchen to get herself a glass of wine from the box in the fridge. She was almost out of Chardonnay, but she poured herself a full glass and sat back down, taking a long sip. She learned a lot of things about Rey, who loved the rain but hated the chill of damp winter days; who dreamed of warm, sunny islands and open roads; who was good with fixing anything, really, but especially cars; who seemed to know a side of Clyde that Mellie didn’t. There was a twinge of jealousy as she realized that Rey’s letters spanned both of his tours in Iraq, and she racked her brain to try to remember anything that Clyde might have said that would have hinted at Rey’s existence, but she couldn’t remember anything. The last letter of the bunch was dated 27 August 2010, and wished him a safe journey home.

> _“…I asked down at General Kenobi’s office whether we would be able to continue writing letters through their programme after you were home, but they said that was for deployed troops only, and that if we want to continue to write each other, we would need to exchange our information. I would like to keep writing to you, but only if you want to. I’m sure you want your privacy and would rather not see letters that remind you of the war, but, if you do want to keep in touch, send me a letter before you head home with your address enclosed. If you send me your address, I’ll know you want to keep writing, and I’ll send you a letter straight away.” _

Mellie blinked, confused. Had Clyde actually declined her offer? Or — no. It must have been the bomb, and the time in the hospital. By then, they might not have been able to exchange letters. The two envelopes at the bottom of the box confirmed her suspicion, the word **UNDELIVERABLE** a door slammed in her brother’s face. She was surprised to find herself aching for the two of them, friends separated years ago by circumstances they couldn’t control.

_The Logan family curse, _she heard Clyde’s voice in her head. No wonder he believed in it so deeply.


	2. Clyde Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Mellie’s help, Clyde tries to get his life back to normal, but shocking news sends him reeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific CW: alcohol use.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _This chapter contains transcriptions and embellishments of scenes from the film_ Logan Lucky. _No infringement is intended._

Clyde didn’t smile much generally, but Mellie had hoped he might look happier walking out of prison. He scowled the entire way to the car and didn’t say a word until they were pulling away.

“Did you talk to him?”

Mellie barely shook her head as she shifted her Nova into gear.

“I think he knows better.”

Each time she checked the mirrors, she stole glances at Clyde’s face. It was pale, drawn, and hard. Her anger at Jimmy flared, but her concern for her middle brother rose like the river, dampening the fire of her temper. Oh, she was still gonna rip Jimmy a new one, but Clyde needed her more than either of them needed to say their piece to their absentee older brother.

The ride to Mellie’s house was longer than usual, since he was quiet. He seemed lost in thought; she observed him narrowly. His eyebrows knit for a moment when she pulled into her driveway, but then he exhaled and seemed to relax, just a little. Mellie smiled, relieved.

“I thought you might like it better here for a bit,” she said, moving to unlock the front door with a new key that she gave him once the door had opened. “Why don’t you have a seat on the couch?”

Mellie’s house was clean, warm, and bright — everything that the trailer tended not to be. The wood paneling was painted white, and her furniture wasn’t brand new, but the couch still had most of its stuffing and the dining room table was wooden, so it was definitely a step up. On the coffee table was a bucket with some beers on ice and a red, white, and blue balloon with ‘Welcome Home’ tied to it. Clyde almost managed a wry smile as he compared this to the last time he’d seen ‘Welcome Home’ plastered all over everything. Still, at least someone wanted him home. Even so… he wasn’t about to impose on his baby sister for any longer than it took him to find a new place.

“Thank you, Mellie. I’ll start looking for a new—”

“Sit down, Clyde Logan,” Mellie cut him off, nodding at the loveseat. “Have a beer. We’ll talk about it later.”

He obeyed. Besides, for the bartender who hadn’t had the option to drink a beer for the last ninety days, it would be a nice change — to be able to drink because he wanted to, to sit in peace and privacy. Mellie put one hand on her hip, the other playing with her hair nervously, her mind on the shoebox.

“I stopped by the trailer when he wasn’t home. I think I got most of your stuff. You sure love your books… and there’s some mail there, too.”

She wished he would say something, _anything. _She waited, and he simply sat and stared at the table before him. Disappointed, she was nevertheless determined to stay with him until he let her know that he was alright. She walked into the kitchen to get herself a glass of wine and came out to find him chugging his beer in front of an open suitcase that held a mechanical arm, courtesy of the VA.

“Looks fancy,” she said. His eyes darted to her as he swallowed his beer and put the empty bottle down. He said nothing, so she shifted gears.

“Hungry?”

Clyde shook his head, and Mellie held back a sigh.

“Okay. Well, make yourself to home. You know where the bathroom is, if you want a shower, and you know where the bedroom is. We’ll head out a little later; I’m sure you’d like to get a look at the bar. I closed it for the rest of the week… you can figure out what you want to do with it by Monday.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Mellie,” he mumbled, and Mellie nodded. She could tell that he needed some time to himself, so she took her wine out to the porch, sitting in her rocking chair. She’d savored her glass slowly. The sun was dipping toward the rooftops of the houses across the way when the front door opened, and Clyde stuck his head out. His hair was wet, and his clothes were fresh.

“You ready?” she asked.

“S’pose so.” He nodded. She took in her wine glass, coming out with her purse and locking the door.

“Tall glass of wine, there, Mellie—”

She cut her brother off with a withering glare, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“All right, just sayin’, it could wait til tomorrow.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled, knowing it was his way of looking out for his baby sister. “Get in the car, Clyde.”

At first, they drove not to Duck Tape, but to Hair We R.

“C’mon,” she said, climbing out of the Nova. He followed, confused, and she unlocked the door and turned the lights on. She dropped her things on her hair station, and gestured Clyde over to the chair.

“What—”

“After bein’ gone three months, you need a trim, Clyde, and don’t even_ try _to say you don’t, I know you do. C’mon.”

She was right, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. Still, she had both hands on her hips and her face said she wouldn’t take any sass from him nor anyone else, so what could he do? He sat, and she trimmed his hair, cutting out the dead weight and trimming the split ends. Of course, his favorite part was always getting the shampoo afterwards, the massage like heaven on his scalp.

After his hair was mostly dry and she’d run a comb through it, he swept the floor while she put the towels in the basket. Duck Tape wasn’t far away, just off the 17, so it was only a few minutes until they pulled in the gravel driveway.

The bar was clean; everything was as he had left it. Some of the stock was a little low, but that was easy to fix.

“You did all this?” he asked, after walking around the whole place.

“Oh, Earl stayed out front, helped me keep an eye on things. Most nights, there were three or four people. More on weekends and game nights.”

Something inside Clyde relaxed at that; Earl had always been a good guy, and he was relieved that Mellie hadn’t been minding the bar alone. It was rare—that British asshole and his “non-tourage” were the first trouble that Duck Tape had experienced for awhile—but even so, the idea of anyone getting handsy with his sister while she was running his bar had haunted him since the day he’d gotten her postcard.

Now, Clyde Logan was a gentle person, but he didn’t tend to get touchy-feely with people, so Mellie was a little startled when he came over and wrapped her in a hug.

“You did great, Mellie. Means a lot t’ me,” he said, choking up just a little.

“It’s what family does, Clyde,” she replied, returning his hug. “You want some dinner?”

He smiled—his first full smile since he got back.

“Wha’dja have in mind?”

* * *

It was about two weeks after Clyde got home from Monroe that he got more bad news: Jimmy’d skipped town.

One slow Thursday, a late summer rain was falling, and Clyde was watching another crash from the Bristol highlights when Earl came in and pulled up a stool. The two men nodded to one another, then Clyde poured him a pint of the usual and handed him an ashtray. They were two men of few words; the sound of Earl’s glass and the occasional crackle of burning paper filled the silence until the door rasped open to reveal Mellie, blessedly dry.

She walked behind the bar, dropped her purse in the usual place, then gave her middle brother a hug.

“Be right back,” she said, heading toward the ladies’ and throwing Earl a smile and a wave. Earl grinned back and nodded, then returned to his beer. Clyde broke the silence.

“Means a lot, what you did for Mellie while I was gone. I appreciate it.”

“’S all right,” Earl replied, fishing out another cigarette and lighting it.

“Well, no—my brother ought to’ve been the one looking out for her. He would have left her by herself.” Clyde’s jaw flexed, his temper rising at his brother’s dereliction of duty.

Earl’s eyebrows went up, and he took a drag off his cigarette. “Woulda been hard to do from Virginia.”

Clyde felt the floor dip and rise. “Virginia? What do you mean, Virginia? What’s Jimmy doing in Virginia?”

Earl immediately realized that he had stepped into the middle of a ‘family situation’, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that now, so he just shrugged and said, “Moody opened a new car lot down there on the 4th.”

The pieces clicked into place, and Clyde swallowed, a momentary ringing in his ears drowning out all sound.

“Jimmy_ moved?!” _

Earl, who was not deaf, and who had heard the clop of Mellie’s boot heels on the wooden floor behind him, simply nodded, and took another drag. Clyde dropped down to a cabinet beneath the bar, rummaging through his private stash. He eyed the bottle of Russian Standard that had come home with him from overseas, but reached instead for the_ raki, _pulling down a double shot glass and adding an ice cube.

Earl watched silently, first intrigued by the clear liquid turning a milky white in the glass, then surprised when Clyde—who almost never drank—downed the whole thing in one gulp. One nostril lifted as the licorice burned a trail down to his stomach. He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose, his jaw set and his eyes flaring. Then he blinked, and it was as if it had never been.

It was then that Clyde’s eyes fixed on Mellie, her brows raised, her eyes wide, her mouth a thin line, and her fists balled and trembling slightly. She was glaring daggers at Earl’s back.

“Mellie?” Clyde’s voice was soft, but her name was less a question and more of a command. Clyde twitched his head toward her normal seat, and bless her, she stomped toward the stool, perching on it and angling her body away from Earl — who, to his credit, raised his eyebrows but otherwise kept his peace. Clyde set a wine glass and a shot glass in front of her; Mellie’s eyes flicked back and forth as she took a couple of breaths, ultimately tapping one manicured nail on the belly of the wine glass.

As Clyde reached for the Moscato, he was trying to formulate a question, but Mellie’s temper got the better of her. She whirled on her stool.

“When were you fixin’ to tell me, Earl?” she demanded, eyes narrowed, a sharpness to her voice that could cut glass.

“Anytime you wanted to talk about Jimmy, darlin’,” he replied, coolly dragging his second cigarette to the filter.

That stopped Mellie cold, because she _hadn’t _wanted to talk about Jimmy since the job, and she probably wouldn’t have wanted to hear anything Earl might have told her.

“Thing is, I figured you was mad at him ‘cause you knew,” he continued, draining the last of his beer.

Mellie’s anger deflated in the face of a very reasonable assumption by Earl, and Clyde took advantage of the cease-fire to refresh Earl’s drink and to distract his baby sister.

“You eaten?” Clyde asked, and Mellie gave a little huff, rolling her eyes, something that reminded him of a much younger Mellie and brought a little smile to his face. He disappeared into the kitchen.

“I just don’t understand why he would tell you and not me,” Mellie groused, taking a long sip of her wine. Earl shrugged again, and reached for his beer. “You know he didn’t talk to Clyde, even once, since Memorial Day?”

Earl was, if nothing else, a wise man. He said nothing, allowing Mellie to vent her spleen about her oldest brother until Clyde reappeared with dinner plates — burgers and fries for two.

For her part, while Mellie appreciated the food, she didn’t miss that Clyde wasn’t eating, or the way he was hunched in on himself. He didn’t say much of anything for the rest of the evening, except to take the drink orders of a party of pool players who came in after the weather broke.

It was as if something inside him that had been hanging on by a thread had finally been crushed by Jimmy’s abandonment, and she couldn’t stand it. That night, after they’d closed down the bar and gone home, she was struck by an idea as she was brushing her teeth: for all of the people that Clyde had lost in his life, there was one she might be able to find, someone who was completely untainted by recent events.

After all, almost everyone these days had a Facebook. That box of letters had been on her mind since the day she’d found them. She went to bed that night with a mission: Mellie Logan was going to find Rey, and bring a spark of hope back to her brother’s life.


	3. Mellie Logan, PI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mellie attempts to find Rey, while supporting Clyde as best she can through some darker days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: depression, PTSD, oblique references to self-harm and suicide

Mellie laid in bed the next morning, notebook and pen beside her, fingers tapping as she thought. It was a good idea, reuniting Clyde and Rey, but where to start? It wasn’t as if she could just ask her brother. She might be able to ask the Army . . . however, that would probably mean a road trip — it wasn’t that she couldn’t explain it over the phone, but Mellie was aware that she was a little more persuasive in person. Then again, she realized, she didn’t even know where to go, exactly. A few taps, however, was all it took Mellie to find out that the closest VA office was not even half an hour away. It was early, so if she left soon, she could be back by lunchtime, and her first client wasn’t until 3.

Dressed in a camo print skirt, a white tank and her favorite white boots, she knocked on the other bedroom door, and couldn’t hold back a smile when a rumpled, groggy Clyde opened his door, blinking owlishly.

“I gotta go run some errands; I’ll be back for lunch. You need anything?”

Clyde wordlessly shook his head, then shut the door. Mellie chuckled silently; Clyde never had been a morning person.

The drive was a distracted one; on the way there, Mellie’s mind kept straying to all the ways this could blow up in her face. For one thing, at some point, Clyde was gonna have to know that she’d seen his stuff. The idea that Mellie would suddenly, coincidentally meet Rey was just too far-fetched to believe, even for Facebook. She set that aside; she’d deal with it later, assuming that this panned out into anything. After all, if Rey was still alive (which Mellie took as a given, even though she knew she shouldn’t — the idea of someone younger than her dying wasn’t one she cared to think about), would Rey remember Clyde?

Heaven knows seventeen year-old girls aren’t always the most consistent, faithful things. If Rey was now married, that might throw a whole other wrench in. Mellie could only imagine what pretty much all of the men she knew would say if their wife or girlfriend said, “Hey honey, I want to go to England to meet this guy that I used to be penpals with when he was in the Army.” Unlike robbing a bank, no one was giving her rules for reuniting two long-lost friends; she was gonna have to wing it and pray. By the time she’d got to the county border, she had almost convinced herself to turn around and go back, that the whole thing was a waste of time. Something calm and stubborn inside her, though, refused to budge. She swallowed her misgivings and pushed the accelerator a little harder.

Walking into the office, Mellie flashed a smile at the man behind the desk.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, putting on her best helpless face. “My brother was in the Army, and he’s been out for a while now, but… he seems awful sad. I know that when he was in Iraq, he had someone he was writing to, and I thought I might try to find her and put them back in touch.”

The man grimaced slightly, drawing in a breath. “Well, miss, I’m afraid that without his approval, there’s not a whole lot I can tell you about his service, and in any case, I don’t know that the Army would have any records unless something in the letters was cause for a disciplinary action.”

Mellie frowned, genuinely crestfallen.

“But,” he continued, wanting to find a way to help her, “I can give you some information on some of the more popular penpal services that servicemembers use. They might be able to tell you.”

Mellie nodded. At least the morning’s trip wouldn’t be entirely wasted. He wrote down a few names on a paper, then tucked it into an envelope, along with his business card, then held on to the envelope when Mellie grabbed it.

“Miss, I put my card in here. Please, if you think that your brother might need someone to talk to, professionally—” Mellie pulled a face, and he stifled a sigh, clearly used to that kind of reaction. “Now, I know we don’t like talking about that sort of thing out here, no one really does, but — please don’t hesitate to give this card to him, or to reach out to me yourself, especially if you think he’s in danger of… getting hurt.”

Mellie blinked, speechless, but nodded as she took the envelope. “Thank you,” she said, and walked out. Once in the car, she looked at the paper. He’d listed three groups, with their websites, as well as giving her his card.

Well, she thought. Might as well get started.

When Mellie got home, she was greeted by a view of her brother, just sitting at the kitchen table in the dark and staring into space. His hair was hanging in his face, and he hadn’t even bothered changing out of what he’d slept in. She sighed, then went over to open the blinds in the living room, spilling sunlight all over the couch and chair that filtered toward the kitchen.

“Clyde?”

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, but he made no effort to move. Mellie could guess that he hadn’t eaten. She turned on the electric skillet, laying in several strips of bacon. The house was soon filled with the sound and smell of cooking.

“Want some? I can ruin a few pieces for you,” she teased. His low chuckle at that instantly put a smile on her face.

“There’s a line I ain’t heard in years.” Not since Mama’d gotten too sick to cook much.

Mellie nodded. “Would you mind making some coffee, Clyde?” While he did that, she sliced up a tomato and made some toast while the bacon and eggs were frying, all her concentration on the task in front of her. Part of her was itching to talk to him, to vent about Jimmy, to ask him about Rey, to spill the beans that she knew about the letters. The safest thing, Mellie knew, was just not talking. _Safest,_ however, did not mean _free from risk._

“You’re awful quiet this morning, Mellie.”

Her eyes went wide for a moment before she could stop them, and she took a big bite of her sandwich to buy herself a little time to think up something to say.

“Something you wanna talk about?”

He shrugged.

“Is there anything you want to go get from the trailer? We… we should probably clean out the fridge while we’re at it.” She winced, thinking about what that old trailer would smell like if the power had been cut already. Clyde’s shoulders bunched up for a moment, then dropped, his face taking on a similar look of distaste.

“Should probably go check on it,” he sighed.

“You wanna do that after breakfast?”

He looked away. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Well, you let me know when you’re ready,” she said, taking her plate to the sink and giving it a quick scrub, then setting it in the drying rack. Returning to her bedroom, Mellie picked up her laptop and brought it to the kitchen table, sitting across from Clyde as he finished his breakfast. A gutsy move, maybe, she thought, but if she was looking it up right in front of him he wouldn’t have any reason to suspect… right?

It was only the work of ten minutes to find each of the sites and email requests for information. Then, the hardest part began: Mellie had to wait.

She heard back from the first one that same day, and they stated that no one by the name of Clyde Logan had ever been on their list. After that, she had fairly run herself crazy with waiting, and then with finding out just how many people with names close to ‘Rey’ lived in England, according to Facebook’s search feature. It wasn’t until Thursday that she got another penpal agency’s reply; no luck there, either. A few more days turned into another week, and Mellie watched her middle brother hurt. She knew that people who didn’t know Clyde as well as she did wouldn’t see much of a change. He retreated inside himself, talking even less than usual, and just did things by rote. He didn’t do much besides work and sleep, and eat if she reminded him.

It was a muggy Sunday evening near the end of August when it occurred to Mellie that the time of year might be making everything her brother was suffering through even worse. She knocked on Clyde’s door, and heard a muffled sound.

“Clyde?”

A wordless noise.

“Clyde, I’m coming in, ok?”

Mellie waited a beat, then opened the door. Clyde was sitting on his bed, hunched over himself as if he were trying to be as small as possible. Mellie would have smiled at the absurdity of it, if she’d been of a mind to. She wasn’t, though, and she walked over to sit beside him, reaching out to tap his shoulder.

“Clyde, can I sit with you?”

He paused, as if he were thinking about it, then nodded. She sat, then gently, as if he were a spooked cat, reached out to touch the arm next to her. He flinched, so she paused and waited, fishing for something, anything to talk about.

“Do you remember that year when you asked for a telescope for Christmas?” she asked him, not really waiting for a response. “We used to walk out into the backyard, down near the creek, at night sometimes, and we would lay there and you would tell me all the names for the stars that you knew from your science books. Jimmy wouldn’t ever come with us; he used to call you a nerd when you’d point out all the constellations. Remember?”

His head turned toward her, just a little, and he nodded, his hair falling into his face.

“You wanna go out back and see if we can still find ‘em? It’ll be dark soon.” She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and felt him trembling. Her heart broke to see Clyde so bad off, and she rubbed his back up and down, like Mama used to when any of them would have nightmares as kids.

“That… ’dbe alright…”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, Clyde. It was just something we used to do, just you and me, until I got to be too cool for it.” She smiled, shaking her head.

“You… always were… cooler than me,” he replied slowly, his tone melancholic and weak in spite of his attempt to joke back. Mellie just sighed.

“Whatever. Well, it’s not dark yet. You want me to stay here or you want me to go?”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Ok,” she said, standing and giving his shoulder a soft pat.

That night, she took a blanket and a few beers out, and they laid under the stars, while Clyde pointed out every constellation and talked about how different the stars looked in the desert.

“Do you think about it much?” Mellie asked. There was a long pause.

“About what?”

“Any of it.”

“Hard not to, Mel.”

“Guess so.”

They passed a few more minutes in silence, then got up. Clyde collected the beer bottles and Mellie shook out the blanket.

“Back to it tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Mellie could feel the unspoken thanks coming from her brother, and she slept better that night than she had in a week.

When the week didn’t bring any more replies from the penpal groups, Mellie was wracking her brains for another way to find Rey. She considered giving up the whole thing; even Mellie’s natural stubbornness couldn’t hold out forever. That Friday morning, she was scrolling through her Facebook feed when something suddenly occurred to her — she searched for Rey and England again, but this time, she went to the search bar and added the words ‘Clyde Logan’ to the search. Maybe Rey, if she had a Facebook, had posted about her brother.

Her flash of inspiration must have been heaven-sent, because not halfway down the search page she saw REY JOHNSON, followed by a post. It was a cluster of what looked like white church candles burning, with the words “‘It gets easier with time’ is a load of bollocks. It’s been 6 years now, and I still miss my friend almost every day. RIP Clyde Logan.”

Mellie whooped with excitement — she’d found Rey at last! The sound of Clyde’s door opening had Mellie clicking ‘Save’ on the post and going back to her timeline as fast as she could.

“Mellie?” Clyde asked, his voice rough with sleep. “You ok?”

“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “Just about missed the chair. Coffee’s on if you want it.”

“Maybe in a minute,” he murmured, his eyes half-closed again, and he wandered back to his room. Opening up the post again, she left a reaction — a ‘wow’ face — then clicked on Rey’s name. Not many details were available, but she looked to be in her mid-twenties. There was no relationship status, the only person she was in a lot of pictures with was a man who, when Mellie clicked through to his profile, was married to another man, so it would seem that Rey was unattached. Another obstacle to check off the list. She clicked on the message button.

_Rey _   
_My name is Mellie Logan _   
_Clyde is my brother. I came across your letters when I was moving his things into my house. If you want to message me back, I’d like to talk to you as soon as possible. _

Mellie was actually surprised to see the ‘Read’ message appear right away, and the floating dots.

** _Hello “Mellie”_ **   
** _Clyde never said a word about having a sister, so I don’t know who you are, really, but if you’re here to take the piss out of me, just bugger off, ok?_ **

Mellie blinked. What on earth had this woman just said to her?

_I literally have no idea what you just said _   
_Clyde never mentioned you to us either. _   
_I know this is weird but I can prove it to you _   
_I know that the last letter you wrote him asked for his address here. _   
_Then there was the roadside bomb _

** _Oh my god_ **

There was a pause.

** _Oh my god_ **

_Listen, Rey, I’ve been trying to find you for weeks. Clyde is alive. He’s alive, and I could use your help. _


	4. Across the Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey responds to Mellie’s message, and we learn more about her family. Clyde gets another shock, and it’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: references to past abuse
> 
> * * *
> 
> _This chapter contains transcriptions and embellishments of scenes from the film_ Logan Lucky. _No infringement is intended._

_Clyde is alive. He’s alive, and I could use your help. _

Finn’s face was skeptical, to say the least.

“Peanut, don’t get your hopes up. She’s probably just a scam artist. I’ll wager the help ‘Mellie’ needs is money.”

Rey looked away, the light glinting off her tear-streaked cheeks.

“Then how did she know about the letters?”

“Inspired guess.”

“Didn’t the Army’s personnel database get hacked a while ago?” Poe asked, his head popping out from the kitchen. Finn’s husband was an American, a retired Air Force pilot who had taken his talents to the private sector after serving his country.

“I don’t know, Poe,” Rey moaned, her heart collapsing. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“It could be in their records. They keep records of everything.”

Rey started to sniffle again, wilting into the couch and wrapping her arms around her knees. Finn felt his own heart crack, and he reached out to her.

“Rey, peanut… look, why don’t you just leave it alone for a couple of days? Let me look into it for you; I’ll talk to them.”

“No! Finn, don’t talk to them. If it’s just a scam, they’ll go away once they think they’re being ignored. If it’s real… just… I don’t want to scare her off. Finn… if it’s real… if he’s alive…”

Finn sighed, and settled down next to Rey on the sofa. “Ok. I promise I won’t talk to her. I_ am _going to Facebook stalk her though. I won’t let her hurt you.”

Rey leaned her head against his chest. “I know, Finn. You’re the best b-f a girl could ask for.”

He chuckled at that; b-f had been short for “Big Finn,” at first — Rey had started calling him that back when he was still struggling over who he was, in his heart. He’d thought that acting like a Big Deal would somehow compensate, and some people had been impressed. Rey, however, had not. She’d liked him, in spite of his ridiculous bravado, and they’d become friends. After his parents had adopted Rey, she decided it was short for “brother-friend.” Of course, people tended to assume it meant ‘boyfriend.’ Finn didn’t mind, since it meant that Rey had been left mostly to herself after all the horrible trauma she’d gone through with Plutt. Poe didn’t mind because, ever since the moment before his and Finn’s second date when Rey had pushed him against the staircase and given him “the talk,” Poe couldn’t see her as anything other than adorably fierce. He’d practically become an older brother to Rey, and between Finn and Poe (to say nothing of Mr. and Mrs. Storm), they tended to spoil her a bit, but after the life she’d had growing up…

“Why don’t you crash on the guest bed and take a nap, peanut? Dinner will be ready soon.” Finn nudged her gently. She stood up, nodding, then turned back toward him to bend down and hug him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, b-f,” she sighed.

As soon as Rey was in the guest room, Finn pulled out his phone and went straight to Rey’s profile.

_Mellie Logan, Esther Storm, Poe Dameron, and 7 others reacted to this_, read the line under her post about Clyde. Finn couldn’t help flashing back to that terrible night when he’d picked her up from the clinic, her hands and forearms covered in bandages, and brought her home. His only consolation had been that after that night, she’d moved into his parents’ house, where he could look after her and make sure that she was safe. He tapped on Mellie’s name, and went as far back as her Facebook timeline would allow.

“…Finn! Babe!”

Finn started. “Huh?”

Poe rolled his eyes and shook his head, fondly exasperated.

“I’ve been calling for you. Would you go get Rey up? Dinner’s ready.”

That night, after Rey had insisted on going home to her own apartment despite Poe and Finn urging her to stay “just in case,” Finn laid next to Poe, scrolling through more of Mellie’s profile. Poe looked over at him, and his eyebrows lifted.

“That’s… you’re really serious about stalking her, aren’t you?”

“Poe,” Finn said, turning off the screen and rolling to face him, “Rey doesn’t talk about him much, but his death was the first time she’d ever got her heart broken like that. She never really got over it, but for a few months, it was so bad… she barely ate, she slept all the time, and when she was awake, she would just sit with that box of letters, or cry, or trace the burn marks on her hands. In a way, it was because of her that I went into medicine. I wanted so badly to help her, but I didn't know how.”

Poe blew out a breath, almost winded by this second-hand story of her grief and its effects.

“I think she was really in love with him… as in love as you can be with someone you’ve never met face-to-face,” Finn continued. “So, yeah, the idea that some scam artist might come along and rip those scars open? You’d better believe I’ve got my eyes on them.”

Poe blinked, taking in all that Finn had said, then nodded toward the phone.

“So, is she the real deal? Or…?”

Finn exhaled sharply, through his nose, his jaw flexing. He paused long enough that Poe almost nudged him, but then he spoke.

“She is, yeah. There’s not a lot on her Facebook from before 2010, but… she does mention her brother Clyde, and him losing a hand in the bomb blast.”

“Well that’s great, isn’t it?” Poe asked, his cocked head and furrowed brow questioning Finn’s grim demeanor.

“Is it? Why would she be popping up after all this time? She could be Clyde’s real sister and still really be trying to swindle Rey out of something.”

Poe kissed his husband’s forehead affectionately. “Have a little more faith in the universe, handsome. After all, I found you.”

Finn melted, and moved one of his hands to lace his fingers with Poe’s.

“You make a good point,” he smiled, pulling up Poe’s arm to kiss the inside of his wrist. He still browsed Mellie’s history, but did his best to give the unknown woman the benefit of the doubt, falling asleep sometime after Duck Tape’s grand opening.

* * *

Rey had said that she would leave it alone for a day or two, but despite her promise to Finn, she just couldn’t. She had so many questions that haunted her, and she needed answers.

** _Mellie? Forgive me for being rude earlier; I really don’t know what to think about all this. I have so many questions. When would be a good time to talk?_ **

_It’s 5:30 in the evening right now; I’ve got time, since Clyde won’t be done at work until almost midnight. What do you want to know? _

So many questions Rey could ask, and they swirled around in her brain like a whirlwind. The trick would be catching one. The thing she most wanted to know was the question that she was most afraid to ask, so she set that aside, and started small.

** _What does he do?_ **

_He owns a bar. Works it every night but Sunday. _

** _And what do you do, if I may ask?_ **

_I’m a hairdresser. _

** _Ah._ **

Rey paused, unsure of where to go, seeing no path forward but the awkward one.

** _He stopped speaking to me after the war. What changed? Why now?_ **

Mellie sucked in a breath. These English girls really didn’t beat around the bush, did they?

_I don’t think he knew how to get in touch with you. He doesn’t even know I’m talking to you right now. _

** _So, what — you randomly facebook searched your brother’s name??_ **

_Basically. _

Rey huffed a breath. Strange, yes, but was she really going to complain? Clyde was ALIVE, and it was as if her heart was weightless, fluttering in her chest. Clyde had been… well, he’d become so much to her while they were writing. He was always kind, thoughtful—a _gentleman_—young Rey had known precious few of those, so she treasured him particularly. There was never a hint of anything inappropriate in his letters to her, but as she remembered them now, there was a kind of affection that ran through them; any impartial observer would have called his letters a testament to the gentle goodness of Clyde’s nature.

It had been easy for young Rey—starved for affection or simply treatment as more than a burden—to take those feelings deep within her heart and nurture them with fervor until they blossomed into a secret garden of hopes and fantasies. The garden had remained _secret_ to everyone but Finn, and even he didn’t know the true depths of her attachment. She had harbored a wish of going to meet Clyde once she aged out of Plutt’s care, but much of the garden had withered on that dreadful September afternoon. She had clipped the article on the bomb blast out of the paper with trembling hands, and tucked it in the envelope with his last letter, then had gone home to retrieve what few things she had and flee–only Unkar had been waiting for her. That was the night she lost the man she had fallen in love with and everything she’d ever known, excepting Finn, in one fell swoop.

Rey shook off the reverie, blinking the tears out of her eyes. She was too agitated to consider her next words carefully.

** _Tell me about him. Tell me everything._ **

* * *

It was sometime in the middle part of September when Joe Bang rode up to Duck Tape on his motorcycle. He walked in, and a few heads turned, then almost immediately turned away. The jukebox drowned out the obligatory whispers and gasps of surprise — or censure. Joe’s expression was unamused as he looked around and didn’t see Jimmy Logan anywhere. Wasn’t that just _typical._

Clyde offered him a solemn nod, and put a napkin up on the bartop for him.

“What’ll you have?”

“Coors Light.”

Clyde turned around wordlessly, grabbed a bottle, and popped the top.

“Mug?”

“Nah,” Joe shook his head. Clyde nodded, and checked on the other patrons at the bar. Joe nursed the beer, and his grudge, for a good fifteen, twenty minutes before catching Clyde’s eye. The dark-haired man sauntered over.

“You want another?” Clyde asked. Joe brushed the question aside.

“How’s your brother?”

A slight pause. “I wouldn’t know.”

Joe pulled back, his eyebrows knitting in surprise. “You haven’t talked to him?”

“Nope.”

“Not once?”

“Nope.”

Joe huffed, the source of his aggravation beyond his reach, and he took a sideswipe at the mountain of a man who wasn’t Jimmy, but was as close as he was likely to get. He tipped his head, disbelief coloring his features.

“Well, seems strange, you know, you two being so _close _and all.”

“Last I heard, he moved south to be closer to his daughter.” Clyde’s lips pinched, as if volunteering that information had been more than he’d intended.

“How far south?”

“Lynchburg.”

Across state lines. Joe winced.

Clyde went on, his mouth drooping into a small frown. “Guess his ex moved down there when her husband opened a new car lot.”

“Well, if you_ do_ speak to him, tell him I’d like to talk to him.” Joe’s tone hung low and black, stormclouds threatening on the horizon.

Clyde shook his head, both out of sympathy for Joe’s frustration and recognition of Joe’s bulldog demeanor—the other man wasn’t going to let this go, and Clyde could hardly blame him.

“I doubt I’ll be talking to him.”

Joe slowly pulled out his wallet to pay for his Coors without so much as a downward glance, instead holding Clyde’s gaze. It was, of course, a display just short of chest-thumping, but it also allowed Joe to read Clyde’s body language. The middle Logan had never been known for being particularly vocal about anything, so the fact that Joe’d gotten this much out of the bartender was remarkable in itself, but the sour expression on Clyde’s face, tinged with the anger that simmered in his eyes, spoke volumes. There was a division between the brothers. Maybe Joe had been asking the wrong questions. He paused.

“He never told you why he gave all that money back?” It pissed him off to even say it, and Joe’s lips pulled back in a snarl, baring his teeth in his aggravation.

Clyde shook his head, his gaze sliding to the lip of the bar before rising back to Joe’s. Clyde was unable to speak, his own heart welling up. Joe took this in, and slapped down his payment on the bar. The division between the Logan boys was _big,_ and not only was Joe left with no payout, but the chances of him ever finding out what the hell had happened were slim to none.

Clyde’s new arm whirred as he pushed Joe’s money back toward him.

“On the house.”

Joe picked up the bill, disgusted with the entire thing, and with himself most of all. After all, if those Logan boys really were as simple-minded as people said, what kind of dumbass was he to get mixed up with them?

“Generous,” he bit out, and left the bar.

Clyde sighed, his lips pinching into a thin line. That pinch turned into a scowl when he looked out toward the parking lot and saw Joe chatting up his little sister. The aggression that had marked Bang’s demeanor in the bar had given way to a macho swagger around Mellie, and Clyde didn’t care for that one bit. Mellie could do what she liked, of course, but Clyde… well, he would have been lying to himself to say that he didn’t prefer that it be with someone other than any of the brothers Bang. He saw Mellie laugh, and another sigh worked its way out.

“Hey barman…” called a voice from behind him. He turned and went to them, closing out their tabs, and by the time that was done, Mellie had come in — thankfully alone. Clyde pulled down a wine glass and poured Mellie her usual Moscato, but he couldn’t keep his peace.

“What’d he want?”

Mellie started at his gruff tone, then rolled her eyes.

“Nothing worth talking about. I do need to talk to you, though.”

Clyde eyed his sister, almost wary.

“And it couldn’t wait until closing time?”

Mellie looked around his shoulder at the clock, and then at the empty bar.

“I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?”

Clyde huffed, equal parts annoyance and amusement.

“Not really, no.”

“Well, good.” She took a deep breath. If she didn’t walk this just right, she was going to out herself as a snoop to her brother. Still, she wasn’t about to let that get in her way. Clyde deserved a second chance at this friendship.

“Something very interesting happened when I searched your name on Facebook the other day.”

Clyde stiffened. “What would make you do that in the first place?”

Mellie shrugged, and offered no further motive.

“There were a few posts from people around here,” she said, absently tracing her finger along the base of her wine glass, “but not many. I_ did _find a post by some British girl, though.”

Clyde’s pulse thundered in his ears and he staggered back a step, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“She had a shrine set up to mark the 6th anniversary of Clyde’s passing. Said she misses him every day. Name of Rey Johnson. Ring any bells?”

“Rey…” he whispered, his eyes slamming shut as he bowed his head, fist clenched to stop it trembling.

“So, of course, I messaged her.”

Clyde’s head whipped up so fast his neck gave a nasty-sounding crack, his eyes wide as plates.

“You _what_ now?!”

Another shrug. “I wanted to know if it was you that she was grieving for. You never said anything about a girlfr—”

**“Don’t.”** That was the darkest, most threatening word she had ever heard come out of his mouth, and Mellie leaned back, eyes wide. With effort, he got hold of himself, and took a deep, shaky breath.

“She’s younger than you are, Mellie, she was still in school! I could never — that ain’t _ever_ been my way, and you know it!” Clyde’s tone was low, but his fist was still balled, and his nostrils flared with each breath.

“Virgil Clyde Logan,” Mellie snapped, channeling their late mother with frightening clarity — no one else_ ever_ used Clyde’s first name. “Don’t you take that tone with me. If you’d_ let me finish,_ you would know that I found that out! Now. May I continue?” She took a breath, and then a sip of wine, and then another breath, her eyes warmer and her tone kinder. Clyde’s fist clenched and unclenched, but he held his tongue.

“Would you believe that when I messaged her, she told me to, and I quote, ‘bugger off?’”

Clyde was so shocked that he burst out laughing — a reaction that turned to tears before he could stop it. Thunderstruck, Mellie was glued to her bar stool for a moment while she processed the fact that her middle brother was_ crying. _Face buried in his hand, his arm propping him up against one of the support beams, just sobbing. She’d never _seen_ a man so unstrung. When she was at last able to think and move, Mellie leapt up and snatched Clyde’s keys. She ran over, locked the doors, turned off the neon OPEN sign, and ran back to her brother.

“Clyde, I—”

At the sound of his sister’s voice, Clyde struggled to compose himself. Mellie touched his shoulder, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

“She heard what happened to the transpo and I guess there was some kind of mistake… she thought you’d been killed in the blast.” Mellie tried to smile. “I think she thought I was a con man, at first.”

Clyde didn’t smile, but he did lift his eyes. They were wet, red, and swollen.

“She didn’t… her life was hard,” he rasped. Mellie opened her arms and gave him a fond, if worried, look. He hugged her, dwarfing her frame with his own. She patted his back, and when they separated, she touched his elbow, suddenly hesitant.

“She wants to come meet you.”

Clyde stilled, fixed to the spot. His thoughts played out across his face, rapid-fire: shock, elation, fear, shame.

“She doesn’t want that,” he croaked, his throat clearly trying to choke down the lie that he was so intent on speaking. Mellie raised an eyebrow.

“You know better than to tell a woman what she wants, Clyde.” Mellie waited a beat, reading her brother. “Do you not want her to come?”

“Mellie, what would she be coming to? There ain’t much here. Not for someone like her, anyway.”

She sighed. Men could be so transparent sometimes, and Clyde was clearly insecure.

_Two guesses as to why. _

Mellie rolled her eyes, one hand on her hip and a fond smile on her face.

“Clyde, did you miss the part where she thought you were _dead?_ I’m pretty sure you’re an upgrade, however you are, one hand or two.” She tilted her head up and smiled at her brother until his lip quivered and threatened to curve up. _Close enough._

“You know I didn’t even know what ‘bugger off’ meant? I had to go look it up!”

Clyde snorted, a chuckle welling up from his chest.

“I guess you learned it in one of your books?” Mellie asked.

_“Good Omens,”_ he replied, knowing full well that Mellie had no idea what that was.

She just shook her head, then asked, “You want me to clean or count the till?”


	5. Leavin' On a Jet Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey flies to America. Clyde goes a little nuts. Then, he takes a walk down memory lane, and begins to realize that perhaps not everything was as it appeared on the surface. A pair of sisters makes a cameo.

“You _what?!”_ Finn sputtered, looking at Rey as if she’d gone insane. In Finn’s defense, she _had_ just made an absolutely ludicrous proposition.

“I opted out of extending the let on my flat. The landlord actually offered to buy my furniture so he can list the place as furnished. My let is up in a few weeks, and I’m going to America,” she replied, her calm façade giving way to a decidedly nervous look. Poe patted her shoulder, trying to strengthen her resolve. The movement wasn’t lost on Finn.

“You knew about this.” He turned on his husband with an accusing glare.

“I knew about it, and I’m helping her set it up,” Poe replied, his face lighting up in his best smile. Finn was having none of it.

“Why would you do that?! How could you go behind my back like this?! Where did you even find the _time_ in the last two weeks, jetting all over the globe, to go behind my back?!”

Poe winced, knowing that he had done exactly that. Before he could speak to defend himself, Rey’s hand reached out for Finn’s forearm.

“Listen to me, b-f. You know I love you. You also know that I’m a grown woman who can make her vacation plans in any way she wants to.”

Finn blew a breath out of his nose, clearly irritated.

“I wouldn’t call terminating the let on your flat and selling your belongings, then skipping the country ‘taking a vacation,’ Rey.”

“I didn’t _terminate_ it! It was up at the end of the month anyway!”

“But _Rey!”_ Finn was exasperated, heartsick, and trying to make her see how completely mad this was. “Selling everything you have and leaving the country makes it sound like you’re never coming back!”

Rey’s eyes watered, and she smiled at Finn, wrapping him in a hug, then she giggled as Poe sandwiched her, putting his head on her other shoulder.

“You know that’s not true, b-f. I’d probably be dead without you, and your family became my family… I could never abandon you and Poe—or mum and dad—like that. I know what that feels like too well to do it to anyone else.”

Finn’s heart both squeezed and eased at that. He hadn’t meant to bring up her abandonment issues, and he ought to have had more confidence in her, but knowing that she intended to come back — that she wasn’t lovesick and being manipulated into forsaking home and family — soothed his fears and made her decision easier to accept. He kissed her forehead.

“Have you _told_ mum and dad?” _Am I the last one to know?,_ his ego sniffled.

She froze. “Er… no. I, um… I needed to be sure that you were on my side before I did that.”

Finn pulled back from her slightly, and regarded her with a furrowed brow.

“On your side?”

Rey sighed, giving her brother a gentle smile.

“Believe it or not, I’m perfectly aware of how bonkers this whole scheme sounds. Mum and Dad might not be too chuffed, but if you and Poe are both supporting me, it would be less likely to cause a row, I think.” Her lip twitched nervously. “I hope.”

Finn chuckled. “I think ‘not too chuffed’ might be underselling it a bit.”

A laugh.

“Probably. But with you two beside me, I think I can convince them.”

They all shared a smile, and one last squeeze before breaking apart to stand in a huddle in the kitchen.

“We can do this,” Rey chanted, trying to reassure herself.

“We can do this,” Finn nodded.

“We’re gonna do this!” Poe grinned, his head bobbing. “Ok, first of all, let me help you out with the ticket. All you’ll have to pay is the taxes. You’ll need to get your visa waiver, though. When are you planning to head out?”

Rey’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Poe!” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. “I thought it would have to be at least two or three weeks out, since that’s when my let is up and even I’m not mad enough to try to buy a last-minute transatlantic flight.”

“Good,” Poe nodded. “That gives you plenty of time.”

“So when are we going to talk to mum and dad about it?” Finn’s voice was nervous; even as a fully-grown, married man, he did not like upsetting his parents.

“Sunday dinner?”

A pause. “Rey, that’s tomorrow,” Finn fretted.

“It’ll be fine, Finn, relax,” Poe smiled, nudging him. “As long as we can put together a travel plan, it’ll be fine.”

* * *

Sunday dinner had been delicious, if a little tense. Finn had been right; ‘not too chuffed’ didn’t begin to describe how Esther and Francis felt about their daughter suddenly gallivanting off to America, long-lost friend or no. Rey had been right too, though; having Finn and Poe’s support helped to win them round. (Poe _may_ have exaggerated slightly how much track he could keep of Rey’s activities through the buddy pass system.)

Rey had her clothing and personal effects out of the flat within a week, between working shifts at the garage. She moved in to Poe and Finn’s guest room, and once she got her visa waiver, Poe began waitlisting her for flights.

** _I got on the standby list here, so I don’t know which day I’m going to make it on board, but it should be one day this week. Will that be ok?_ **

_Yeah. I’ll pick you up. Where are you landing?_

** _I can get to Dulles, in Washington, or to Raleigh, North Carolina. Which one’s better?_ **

_Washington is 6 hours each way. NC is 5 each way._

** _Oh no! Mellie, I couldn’t ask you to do that! You’d miss an entire day!_ **

_Trust me, it would be worth it._

That made Rey’s heart sing, knowing that this woman who, while less a stranger than she’d been three weeks ago, still hardly knew her. She must really love Clyde, Rey thought.

** _My brother-in-law says I can get to Charleston? I’d have to go through Charlotte, North Carolina, though, and there’s a chance I’d get bumped on the second leg._ **

_Charleston is less than an hour from us, and even if you got stuck in Charlotte, that’s still pretty close._

** _Ok. I’ll message you once I’m on a plane, ok?_ **

_Sounds good. I’m looking forward to meeting you._

* * *

Going to Heathrow every morning by 5am was perhaps the most disagreeable part of the entire scheme, but if Rey was there by 5am, Poe explained, she would get on the waitlist early — usually first — and had the best possible chance of catching a flight. It was murder getting up at 3:30, but she would stretch, and think of Clyde, and she couldn’t move fast enough. The garden of her heart, it turned out, was not dead but merely in hibernation; with the news that Clyde was alive, the blossoms of hope burst forth, and she had sunshine enough for the entire world.

It was on the following Sunday that her quiet persistence was at last rewarded: the early transatlantic flight had a few empty seats, and she was able to snag one. Her money was on the same gate attendant that she’d seen three days this week finally taking pity on her, but either way, she wasn’t complaining.

“Miss Rey Johnson?”

Rey had her ID and pass out, practically shoving it into the gate attendant’s hands. The blonde took her pass, printed and stamped it, and shooed Rey up the ramp; the plane was due to leave in 10 minutes. She picked up her duffel bag and her messenger bag and ran like the wind.

“Good morning!” she chirped at the flight attendant, handing over her pass.

“Good morning miss,” the man returned, flashing her a brilliant smile. “If there is an available seat behind the wing, we ask that you take that one.”

“Alright, thanks!” Rey was careful not to snatch her pass back, but she was anxious to get on board and not be singled out as a late-comer and troublemaker.

The only available seats were next to an already-sleeping businessman, his bull neck wedged into a c-pillow, or an elderly woman who had her knitting out, needles clicking away. Rey, not wishing to try her luck asking a woman with stabbing implements to move, chose the aisle seat next to the snoring suit, jammed her duffel in the overhead, and sat down, tapping out two brief messages before turning off her phone: one to Mellie with her flight number, and one group text to her family.

Rey’s eyes were fixed on the flight attendants, gauging their moods and reactions to everything. She was determined to be the best passenger, the one most interested in the safety lecture, the model of good behavior. Finn had taken her aside after Poe had given her the buddy pass, and warned her that these were tricky things. Her appearance and behavior, he explained, were considered a reflection on Poe, and if someone took a dislike to her, Poe could be reprimanded or lose his job. Poe had rolled his eyes and argued that Rey was an angel and everyone would love her. Finn, of course, had total confidence in his sister (he had cut his husband a sharp glare at that), but had said it would be remiss of him not to give her all the details.

As much as the thought of such great responsibility made her palms itch, there was something much bigger on her horizon. Clyde was back from the dead, and the world was full of miraculous possibilities. Mellie had told Rey about Clyde’s hand, of course, and knowing that he’d lost a limb, been in pain, and had suffered through rehabilitation without her encouragement and well-wishes, had wounded Rey’s heart. However, she found it hard to be too morose, considering the alternative. Her budding friendship with Mellie had carried one additional advantage that she’d never considered: she now knew what Clyde looked like. Mellie had a scant few pictures of Clyde from before the war on her facebook, if you looked back far enough.

When she had been corresponding with him, Rey would let her flights of fancy dream up the man on the other end, picturing him as he wrote to her from the other side of the world. Even Rey’s dreamier, more impractical side had admitted that Clyde’s looking like Mr. Darcy was decidedly unlikely, even if his letters were excellent. She had no illusions about Clyde’s ever wearing a cravat (_more’s the pity,_ sighed her inner romantic) or even a formal suit; he might be a bit of a dreamer, but he was in the Army, after all — and who was going to wear a cravat in the middle of the desert?

In reality, his appearance was nothing like she had imagined — but from the moment she set eyes on his face, she could not remember what she had ever imagined him to look like. The pictures were not terribly sharp, but from what she could see, he was a dark-haired, long-limbed giant. He had worn his hair a little shaggy before his enlistment, but the last picture of him was with a crewcut. Rey was convinced that his ears were the most adorable things she’d ever laid eyes on. He was, in some respects, an odd-looking man, but he could never be anything but handsome to her as her eyes traced the gentleness of his disposition in the lines of his mouth, his fine intelligence in the set of his brow.

She now had just a few hours to dream and to wonder about him, and then she would meet him, face-to-face. What would he think of her? Would he think that she was pretty? _Will he see me as anything other than a schoolgirl? Could he ever love me?_ Rey frowned, picturing herself in her mind. She was all lean legs and teeth, really. Not much to hold on to. If West Virginia girls were generally made like Mellie, Rey wasn’t going to measure up. _A familiar position,_ an unkind voice in her head reminded her. She sighed, but set her jaw. Whatever he might think, whatever might happen, she was going to go there and satisfy her heart’s need to see him alive and well.

* * *

Clyde was not a morning person, and never had been. Today, however, was shaping up to be an exception. He had woken up around four in the morning, brimming with nervous energy, unable to get back to sleep. Mellie had told him that Rey was on standby to fly any day now, and he’d awoken with a mighty need to put the guest room in order for her. After all, Mellie’s house had only two bedrooms in it. Rey, therefore, was going to sleep in the guest bed, and he was going to either go back to the trailer or sleep on Mellie’s couch. If neither of those options were particularly appealing, neither was the idea of making Rey sleep anywhere but on a comfortable bed. Rey had been treated like an afterthought most of her life, and it wasn’t how one treated their guests, regardless.

He puttered around, first stripping the sheets from the guest bed and taking his dirty laundry to the washer, then getting new sheets from the linen closet. The bed was made with the kind of sterile precision only the military could bestow, and with the same critical eye, he tidied and straightened his books on the shelves, and dusted every surface he could find. He sat down on the bed with a sigh, then looked at the alarm clock.

5:15.

He scrubbed his face with his hand in exasperation. Resigning himself to his fate, Clyde shuffled to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then went to get a shower and shave. By the time he finished, dressed, and sat down to have cereal and coffee, the clock had finally dragged itself all the way to six.

A short while later, he was on his knees cleaning the kitchen floor when Mellie’s hasty appearance startled him, the scrub brush’s rhythmic _scritch-scratch _falling silent. She buzzed to the guest room door, her silk robe fluttering in her wake.

“Clyde! Hey Clyde, get u—!” Mellie stopped abruptly, staring at Clyde as if he’d lost his marbles. “What are you doing down there on the floor?”

Clyde looked at his bucket and brush, then back at Mellie expectantly. She rolled her eyes, then fixed him with a no-nonsense glare.

“Of _course_ I can see you’re cleaning the floor! You saying my floor’s dirty?”

_Uh oh._

“No, but I already cleaned the guest room and it was too early to run the washing machine or the sweeper.”

She stared, disbelief and appraisal mingling in her eyes.

“Clyde Logan, how long have you been awake? You’re _never_ up this early. Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Rey’s on her way.”

His jaw flexed, and then there was the _plop-swish!_ of the brush in the bucket, and the _scritch-scratch_ of the bristles on the floor was louder and more vigorous than before. Mellie shook her head. It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and he was already about to lose his mind. He must have known, though, somehow. To see Clyde up before nine any day that wasn’t Christmas morning or Easter Sunday was unheard of.

“She’s supposed to land in Charlotte about one; then, if everything goes according to plan, she’ll be in Charleston around four.”

Clyde looked at the clock. Eight more hours… this was going to be unbearable. At this rate, every surface of the house was going to be scrubbed within an inch of its life.

“Well, I’m going to get ready. I’m sure there’s a few things we’ll need to do before then.” Clyde heard the shower turn on, and he resumed his scrubbing.

By the time Mellie had eaten breakfast, showered, and gotten dressed with her hair done and makeup on, Clyde had cleaned every dish in the sink, started the washer, vacuumed the entire house, straightened the coffee table to ruler perfection, cleaned the picture frames and the mirrors, moved his washing to the dryer, and had wiped down every countertop. He had even scrubbed the toilet. He’d also changed his clothes four times, and Mellie found him sprawled on the couch wearing a button-down plaid shirt with a pair of black jeans and his black boots.

Mellie shook her head, chuckling affectionately. “Clyde, I haven’t even lifted a finger and I’m wore out with all this cleaning! You cleaned up alright, though.”

Clyde lifted his head from the back of the couch, gave her a blank look, then lowered his head back to resting.

“Do you want to go to Charlotte? Try to catch her there?”

Clyde didn’t lift his head. “Mellie, if I never see Charlotte again, I will die a happy man.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ll be sorry not to go to Charlotte again,” Mellie declared. “But you’d better find something to do — read or sleep or _something_ — because you’re out of things to clean and you look like you’re fixin’ to lose your mind.”

There was a pause, then Clyde raised his head again, giving his sister an incomprehensible look.

“When you got my things out of the trailer, did you happen to get in my footlocker?”

Mellie’s breath caught, but she made herself answer.

“I did. There was a velvet box and a dusty old shoebox. I put the velvet box inside the shoebox, and the shoebox is under the bed.”

Clyde stood up, and walked back to the guest room. It wasn’t until the door closed that Mellie took in a big breath, suddenly aware she’d forgotten to breathe. Her skin prickled and she shivered, suddenly feeling the need to get out of the house for a while.

It had been a long time since Clyde had looked at Rey’s letters. He had re-read them almost obsessively while he was in recovery, committing them to memory while wishing fervently for her to receive the letter he’d sent to her. It was a couple of weeks later that his letter came back stamped **UNDELIVERABLE,** and he had been devastated. He’d even spoken to a chaplain about it, pouring his heart out about his friend and how much the idea of not being her friend_ hurt._ The chaplain had advised him to wait until after he was discharged and write again, this time including a letter for the people at the exchange office to explain the situation, and why he hadn’t dropped off a letter for her before he’d left the air base. If the issue was that he was no longer deployed, as Rey’s last letter had suggested, perhaps they would make an exception for the injury he’d taken while serving his country and the allied forces.

That idea had given Clyde a measure of comfort, as well as a reason to push himself harder in rehab. He had pushed, and made good progress, and was sent home a full two weeks ahead of schedule. He had written another letter almost as soon as he’d walked in the door. As the chaplain had suggested, he wrote to the office itself, explaining why the letters were coming after his discharge, and asking them to make a one-time exemption. When he’d received an international mail envelope three weeks later, he hadn’t looked at the address too closely before he tore it open. Inside had been the letter he sent, stamped **UNDELIVERABLE** once more. This time, though, there’d been another letter, one from the exchange office. General Kenobi (ret.) had read his letter and would have granted the exemption, however, they were sorry to report that when their courier had attempted to deliver the previous letter, he’d been chased off the property by the owner. Said owner had been screaming unprintable things and had attempted to assault the courier. They regretted to inform him that they would no longer be able to deliver letters to that address, and that his recipient had not contacted the office to leave a forwarding address.

The loss of his hand had been nothing compared to the wound to his spirit.

At the time, everyone had written it off as post-injury depression and recovery, and he hadn’t seen any good reason to explain otherwise. Explanation would mean thinking and talking about the whole torturous business. Even for all of the anguish of their separation, he had never for a moment thought to blame Rey. He didn’t know everything about her “guardian,” but knew enough to be unsurprised at the idea that he would keep Clyde’s letters from getting to Rey.

There had also been a hand-written sticky note discreetly attached to the General’s letter. Someone had wanted to let Clyde know, off the record, that the appropriate authorities had been contacted out of concern for ‘the girl’s welfare.’ That had given him a small measure of consolation: even if they were never to speak again, his letters had caused someone to pay attention, to be concerned, to take Rey to a better life.

And now… now Rey was on her way. She was on her way to him. Clyde stared into the shoebox, as if the key to life’s mysteries lay within. He pulled out her first letter, and let himself go back in time to better ground himself in the present. Here, in these letters, he was able to see with the clarity of time and wisdom how utterly unlikely their connection had been. As he moved forward in time, he found himself wondering at some of the things she wrote; there was something, at times, that looked less like friendly affection and more like…

He jumped when Mellie knocked on his door, startled out of his thoughts.

“Clyde? You wanna eat before we go to Charleston?”

“No, I think I’d just as soon be on the road.”

“Well, let’s go then.”

Clyde closed the lid on the box and his thoughts, sliding them back under the bed as he stood, then smoothing out the blankets. He nearly tripped over his own two feet at the idea that he was on his way to pick up Rey from the airport, but he somehow made it to the car in one piece.

“You ok, Clyde?” Mellie’s voice was tinged with concern. “You look a little off.”

He nodded his head wordlessly to both; he _was_ a little off, but he was better than ok.

* * *

Rey would have been lying if she’d said there wasn’t a part of her waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d landed in Charlotte, had her passport inspected, and got her entry stamp along with an exit date: January 7, 2017. Of course, Rey wouldn’t stay until January. She’d be back in England for Christmas. Finn would probably think she was gone forever if she didn’t, and she didn’t want to upset or disappoint her mum and dad any more than she might have done in leaving.

As soon as she was through customs, she pulled out her phone, carefully toggling cellular data off before turning airplane mode off. She didn’t want to imagine the bill once she got home if she’d failed to do that. Once she was satisfied that she wasn’t roaming, she turned her wi-fi on and was hit with half a dozen messages — well-wishes from her family, of course, and a strong admonition from both Finn and Francis that she send them the address where she was staying as soon as she got there, and to be very careful. Finn went a little further, saying that if he didn’t hear from her at least every other day, he would make Poe steal a plane and fly him there to check on her. Rey chuckled and rolled her eyes at how alike father and son were, but she couldn’t dismiss how good it felt to have people who loved her and were worried for her safety. Esther and Poe were a little less fanatical in their concern, but her mum did want to hear from her once she was settled.

Since everything else had gone so smoothly, Rey was a bundle of nerves when she approached the gate for the flight to Charleston.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Rey’s gentle lilt might have gotten lost in the shuffle, but her accent marked her as a foreigner, and consequently as a person of interest.

“Hi, yes ma’am, what can I do for you?” asked the brunette behind the counter.

“I’ve just arrived from London and I should be on the standby list for the connection to Charleston. Can you confirm I’m on the list?”

“I can confirm whether you’re on the list, but you understand that doesn’t guarantee you a seat, right?”

“Of course.” Rey gave the woman her friendliest smile.

“May I see your ID please?”

Rey handed over her passport, and waited, trying very hard not to chew on her thumbnail.

“Miss Johnson, I do have you confirmed on the standby list. Please be in the area; if we are able to seat buddy pass holders, we’ll call them right before the plane leaves.”

Rey nodded enthusiastically, taking back her passport. “Of course, thank you.”

“No problem.”

Rey made a quick trip to the facilities, got herself a sandwich that she could barely eat for being nervous (which was just as well, since it tasted awful), and immediately regretted not having brought tea with her; no one seemed to serve it hot here. She video-called her parents as she sat by the gate desk, trying to keep an eye on the flight monitor as much as on her screen. Esther had been glad to hear from her, and Rey knew that as soon as they hung up, she would call Francis, so that her dad would stop worrying. Finn had picked up before the phone had finished its first ring. After extracting yet another promise from Rey to send Mellie’s address as soon as they arrived, he wished her bon voyage again, and she turned all of her attention to the monitor.

Watching as people boarded, she was hopeful at first; the small number of passengers seemed to suggest she’d have no trouble getting a seat. When she turned to look at the plane, however, her heart sank; it was a tiny puddle-jumper, and the line of people waiting to board seemed somehow longer now that it had gotten to the plane. Her eyes closed, and she reminded herself that all she had to do was message Mellie, and she would come. It was okay, even if she had to wait a few more hours, she told herself.

“Will Miss Paige Tico come to gate 2A? Miss Tico to gate 2A to board, please.”

A willowy young woman, radiating calm power, made her way up to the desk, and a conversation ensued. Rey did her best not to eavesdrop, but she did hear something about ‘together’ and ‘no’. The woman gestured to where she’d been sitting; a doe-eyed girl who looked like she might be her sister was watching the proceedings minutely and gripping the handle of her bag hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Paige’s demeanor never waivered, and she was the picture of politeness.

“…yes, I understand. We’ll wait. Would you be so good as to put our names on the stand-by list for the next flight?”

“Of course, Miss Tico, but you understand—”

She nodded, her expression serene. “I do. Perhaps someone else here can still take that seat.”

The brunette inclined her head, and Paige glided back to her companion, pulling her into a hug.

“We’ll get on the next one, Rosie-posey,” she crooned, and kissed the younger girl’s head.

Rey’s grip on her own duffel tightened.

“Miss Rey Johnson, last call to board at Gate 2A, please,” blared over the speaker, but Rey was at the desk before she’d even finished, handing over her pass like it was on fire. The brunette was quick with it, scribbling and signing and stamping.

“Have a nice flight!” she shouted after Rey, who was barreling down the gangway at speeds that might make the Olympic committee sit up and take notice. The flight attendant was just closing the door as Rey ran up.

“Please wait!” Rey panted, and the radio next to the attendant crackled to say they’d filled the last seat on the flight and the passenger was on their way out.

“I’m sorry,” Rey gasped, “the last girl refused the seat. I got here as fast as I could.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow, taking in Rey’s appearance, and Rey involuntarily straightened up, smoothing her hair back.

“You need to get in your seat,” she huffed, opening the door.

Rey slid by and found the empty seat as quickly as she could, doing her best to ignore the passengers who were glaring at her as if she were the reason for their delayed departure. Rey wanted to protest that they weren’t delayed yet, and that it hadn’t been her fault in any case, but instead she held her tongue, feeling heat spread across her cheeks as she looked for a place to put her duffel. She was finally able to cram it in to an overhead spot about 4 rows further down, then she slunk back to her seat, feeling everyone’s eyes on her.

“Excuse me,” she said to a gentleman sitting next to an empty window seat. “May I sit?”

He looked almost startled, but gave her a warm smile as he got up, which she returned, relieved to have one person on the plane who didn’t appear to be angry with her. As she was fastening her seatbelt, the captain came on and informed the cabin that the plane had been cleared for takeoff, and their expected travel time was one hour.

Somehow, one hour could feel almost as long as six years.

Rey waited until the other passengers had de-planed before standing up to retrieve her duffel; swimming upstream toward the tail of the plane to get her bag hadn’t appealed to her, and she wanted to settle her nerves. Now, though, the moment was upon her, and she was nearly quaking with excitement.

** _Where should I meet you?_ **

The response was almost immediate:

_We’re by the baggage claim._

_We._ Clyde was here too, then. She swallowed, wiping her palms against her thighs, then slung her bag over one shoulder and followed the signs, emerging in a brightly-lit, noisy area.

“Rey!” She could see Mellie, dressed in a suede sherpa jacket and a stetson, standing alone by the luggage carousel. Rey’s heart did a funny flip in her chest, and she dropped her bag in shock when the other woman wrapped her in an immediate hug.

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Rey! And there’s Clyde!”

Rey jolted in surprise, then slowly turned, silent as her eyes raked over every inch of the enormous man in front of her. ‘Clyde’ formed on her lips, but no sound came out as she took in the realness, the nearness, the totality of _him._

His cheeks turned scarlet as she stared, but he was similarly unable to tear his eyes away. She was, without a doubt, fully a woman, and the loveliest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Mellie’s eyes darted back and forth between them, but she was as spellbound as they were, and couldn’t bring herself to say a word.

Slowly, Rey’s hand reached toward him, her fingers alighting on his as if she were afraid he was an illusion her touch would dispel. He was very, very real, his heart thundering in his chest and sending his pulse pounding through his arteries. His hand shook as she touched it, and he wanted with all of his being to draw her in and assure himself that she was really there, after all these years. Her eyes locked on his, tears falling freely, and she finally gasped his name, throwing her arms around him and taking his breath away. Slowly, so gingerly that it was almost comical, his arms wrapped around her, and he let his eyes fall closed, taking in her presence with his other senses.

Neither of them, therefore, saw Mellie’s canary-eating grin.


	6. Blanket the Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it’s hard being old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: discussion of past abuse, burns, misogynistic attitudes

That first night, after Rey had horrified everyone in earshot at the restaurant by wondering aloud why anyone would drink their tea cold (and impressed some of them with the sheer amount of steak and potatoes she could put away), they talked mostly about work and day-to-day things; Rey’s shifts at the garage (not Unkar Plutt’s, thankfully), Clyde’s bar, Mellie’s enthusiasm for cars and driving. They certainly didn’t talk about the job, or about painful things in the past. The drive home wasn’t bad, but all of the sitting she’d been doing that day, the week of early mornings, and the weight of a full belly caught up with her suddenly, and she found it nearly impossible to stay awake. When they got to Mellie’s house, Clyde carried her bag inside over her protests, but she was grateful.

Mellie had retired to her room not long after they’d gotten home, claiming road fatigue and early appointments the next day. Rey had availed herself of a hot shower and was dressed in long pajamas, sitting on the couch and watching the fireplace flames dance when Clyde came to sit down next to her. She didn’t stir as he pulled a stray throw blanket around her shoulders, and the pop and hiss of the flames were the only sound.

“Something on your mind?” Clyde asked, sitting gingerly on the far cushion, right hand dangling from the arm of the sofa.

She turned to face him, her eyes searching his for something, and he waited, still and uncertain. She pulled the blanket around her more tightly and her eyes lowered, head bowing.

“I…No. Just… I’m tired. I’ve been up since 3:30 in the morning, which… I think we’re 4 hours ahead?” She tried to smile reassuringly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

He took a deep breath, holding it while he looked her over, considering carefully what he wanted to say—or whether he wanted to say anything at all. Deciding against it, he exhaled and turned his attention to the fireplace. His mind swirled with questions, the biggest one being ‘Now what?’ He hardly knew where to begin. Rey was really there, sitting next to him, in the place where he lived. She was going to stay until she decided not to. That was one thing, and it would have been a big enough thing all by itself. However, it was one thing of many, and one of the other things was that Rey was a beautiful young woman in whom Clyde was already frighteningly emotionally invested. Yet another was wondering what it was that she felt she couldn’t tell him. His time behind the bar of Duck Tape had already strengthened his natural talent for reading people, as well as coaxing out their secrets. Of course, he knew he had no right to her private thoughts—they were only friends, and hadn’t spoken in years—but part of him was aching to carry her burdens.

Her deep inhale caught his attention, and he turned to hear whatever she might finally say—only to find that she had curled up on herself like a cat in order to fit as much of her body as possible under the throw, and was nearly asleep. How long had he been lost in his thoughts?

“Rey?”

She made a sound of groggy acknowledgment.

“You’re sleeping in the other room. Come on.” He stood, and offered his hand.

A sleepy smile and tiny nod, then she yawned and stretched, long and full, and made little squeaky noises that turned his heart to goo—which then sloshed around instead of beating when she grabbed his hand and stood up. He showed her to the guest room, where she surprised him with a good night hug, leaving him standing there in the hall, blinking, for a long moment after she’d closed the door. At last, he pulled a quilt out of Mellie’s linen closet that was probably as old as he was, along with a couple of spare pillows, and returned to the couch.

Whatever it was, maybe after sleeping on it, she’d feel better, and if not, maybe she’d talk to him. He fell asleep trying to think of ways to say all the things he wanted to her. He wanted to be ready, when they had that conversation. He was already getting a second chance… no way the Logan family curse would give him a third.

Clyde woke up the following morning a bit stiff, with his legs hanging off of one end of the couch, but any lingering grogginess evaporated at the realization that he had no feeling in his good arm from the elbow down—it had been hanging off of the couch all night. Grumbling, he sat up, shaking out his arm, and shambled toward the restroom.

“Morning, Clyde,” Mellie yawned. “Coffee’s on.”

He rumbled an acknowledgment and disappeared behind the door.

Rey was out on the porch, talking to Finn and Poe. Well, she’d talked to Poe, who had asked her mundane questions like a normal person: “How are you liking America, Rey? Is it cold in West Virginia?” Her brother, on the other hand, was more like a dog worrying a bone.

“Alright, Rey, now take me through that again,” Finn said, leaning forward and giving her a life-or-death glare. “You slept in his room last night?!”

Rey sighed and rolled her eyes.

“It’s the _guest _room.”

Finn was skeptical.

“The guest room… where his clothes and books are.”

“Yes, his personal belongings are stored there,” Rey intoned, rapidly getting fed up with her brother.

“His bed? Big bed?”

_“Single,_ Finn. _Single_ bed. Clyde let me have the bed and slept on the couch. You know, _like any decent gentleman would do.”_

Mellie poked her head out of the door as Rey was making the last point.

“Did you want some coffee, Rey?” she asked, her words tumbling out in a gentle stream, since her own brew hadn’t kicked in yet.

“Oh, er— hang on a second.” She turned to Mellie, holding the phone to one side. “I’m sorry.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I was just trying and failing to explain to _my insanely suspicious and overprotective brother—”_ these words, slightly louder and emphasized, were meant for Finn, who made a rather affronted squawk in protest while his husband guffawed— “that I didn’t bunk with _your_ brother last night—_not that it would be your business if I had, Finn Storm! _What was your question?”

It was all Mellie could do to hold on to her coffee mug. “Coffee?” she offered weakly.

“Do you, perchance, have a tea kettle? If you don’t, then I’ll come in and see about the coffee,” Rey smiled.

“I don’t know that I do. Let me look.” She shut the door in a daze—she was not awake enough to process what had just happened on her porch. Were all British women that blunt? Or was it just Rey?

“Ok, now if we can please be done with the Spanish Inquisition, I’d love to talk to my brother again.” Rey snapped, her exasperated face coming back into view and her voice that of a woman on the edge of her patience.

“Rey, don’t be too hard on him,” Poe soothed. “No one knows Clyde like you do, right? We know how men can be,” he smirked, a look between him and Finn saying _‘do we ever!’,_ “but we don’t know_ him.”_

Rey softened, just a little, but she wasn’t done making her point. “That’s just it. You _don’t_ know him, and you assume that he’s— that he’s _like that!_ Do you really think I’d come all the way out here if he was?”

Poe smiled, marveling at how a girl that life had kicked around for so long could be so loving and ready to trust. “No. But think of it from Finn’s place for just a minute. If you were to be wrong—_not that I’m saying you are, Rey, just hear me out!—”_ at this, he raised a hand in front of the camera to forestall her angry protest— “What we’d lose if you were wrong… Rey, you have to know it would destroy this whole family to lose you.”

There was a low gasp from his right, and when Poe looked over, he saw that Finn’s chin was quivering. He turned the phone so that Rey could see it too. Rey blinked back tears. She knew Esther and Francis cared for her, and that Finn felt responsible for her, like a big brother. She knew that Poe was fond of her. When you’re an orphan that no one saw as more than a pain or a paycheck for 17 years, though, 6 years of the kind of love and concern you always deserved hasn’t quite seeped into your bones.

“Finn,” she choked, and a pair of tears welled out and spilled down her cheeks at the sight.

Poe wished more than anything that he could pull them both into a hug. He couldn’t, so he did the next best thing. He wrapped his arm around his husband’s shoulders and squeezed, then said, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard it, “Rey, you are so important to us, and this is so important to you. I’ll do my best to help, but those of us who love you are going to worry. That’s what you do when you love someone—and I think you know that, or you wouldn’t be in West Virginia.”

His words hit Rey like a body blow, and she couldn’t breathe.

“So,” he continued, “help us not worry by staying in touch, and I’ll see what I can do about the Spanish Inquisition, ok?” He squeezed Finn’s shoulders again.

Rey, still struggling, simply nodded.

“Hey, we love you,” he nudged.

“You too,” she managed, sniffling.

Poe disconnected the call, then Rey’s phone buzzed.

_Chin up, Sunshine. You got this. Call us anytime._ ❤️

She sat on the porch for a few more minutes, trying to compose herself. Failing, she retreated into the house, and from his seat at the kitchen table, Clyde’s head turned to follow her. There was a flash of something Mellie couldn’t quite place on his face when she practically bolted to the bedroom without a backward glance and shut herself inside.

He turned back around, and caught Mellie watching him. She didn’t avert her eyes, though, and her concern was written all over her face as she stared into her brother’s.

Mellie couldn’t voice her concerns, not yet. It might sound like regret, and this entire escapade had been her idea to begin with. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, sighing and then sipping her coffee, and the siblings sat in uncomfortable silence until she couldn’t take it anymore, nearly exploding out of her chair.

“I need to get ready for work.”

Clyde just sat, laconic, and let her go and do. Both of the women in this house were behaving oddly. He knew Mellie would bury it under her made-up exterior, and wouldn’t talk about it unless she had to. Rey, though… well, he had no idea how she would handle it, and he couldn’t help but worry that she’d fly back to England, preferring to keep their friendship at a distance. Something inside his chest twisted at that, and though he wasn’t a man to act rashly, Rey was likely to prove the exception to the rule. He took a mental inventory, then put his coffee cup in the sink and went to brush his teeth.

Rey was sitting on the bed, turning the pages of a small album she’d pulled out of her bag, when someone knocked on her door. She snapped the album shut and shoved it under the pillow.

“Yes?”

Clyde opened the door and took in the sight of Rey, light from the partially open blinds suffusing the room with a warm glow. Her hands were in her lap, but not quite still, and her eyes were wet. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw streaks on her face. Had she been crying?

“Mornin’, Rey.”

She couldn’t stop the shy but hopeful smile that took over her face, even though her insides were churning.

“Good morning, Clyde.”

“May I come in?”

Her heart thumped an extra beat, and she had to stop her eye roll—it was at her own foolishness, but Clyde might have thought it was about him. She scooted toward the window.

“Sure. You want to sit?”

Clyde hesitated, and she saw it, and he saw the confusion that passed over her face, an expression that was quickly tucked away. He crossed the room carefully, quietly, as if he feared waking a sleeping tiger, and sat gingerly on the bed beside her. After a beat of heavy silence, he asked, “Are you upset?”

Her denial was a little too glib, too quick, and he just waited, his eyes soft and full of concern. She looked away, fidgeting with her hands in her lap, and then Rey decided could no longer bear not knowing.

“Clyde, I… I need to… there’s something I don’t understand, and…”

His head tilted and his eyebrows knit in confusion. “What is it?”

“Why… you… well—” she huffed, frustrated at her own awkwardness and cowardice. She took a full breath, exhaling through her nose.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes welled with tears again, and her frustration grew. Could she go five minutes without crying like a little girl?

His heart ached at her distress. “I tried to, Rey. I wrote you as soon as I made it back… twice, I wrote to you, but the letters came back.” He slid off the bed, crouching as he reached under the bed and grabbed the shoebox. He turned on the bedside lamp and sifted through the box, producing the two envelopes stamped **UNDELIVERABLE.** Rey stared at the box in awe.

“You _kept_ them,” she breathed reverently, but then she turned her face away as her eyes filled with tears.

_She must not have kept mine,_ he thought. His heart sank, and he shifted uncomfortably, beginning to doubt that Rey had ever harbored the same kinds of feelings that were steadily growing inside his chest. Dashing away her tears, Rey reached under the pillow for her album.

“This is all—” her voice choked, and she fought for calm. “It’s all I had left.”

Gently, Clyde set the box on the nightstand and took the small album from her hand, opening the front cover and placing the book in his lap. His scrawl was visible in places, but mostly, they were the charred remains of papers, his words lost to curling wisps of blackness.

“For so… for so long…” she whispered, the lump in her throat and brick in her chest making each word a battle.

Clyde continued to turn pages, touched by the care that she’d taken; she’d placed a label on the bottom of each page with the date of the letter or ‘unknown’. When he reached the last two pages, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him: there, creased and slightly yellowed, was a folded piece of paper, untouched by fire. The date read “25 August 2010 – His Last Letter” and the ink was splotchy in one round drop, making the ‘a’ of ‘Last’ wavy. On the opposite page was a newspaper clipping from the first week of September, 2010, the headline ‘Homeward Bound Convoy in Iraq Decimated by Roadside IEDs’.

He looked back at her, his heart overflowing with feelings, and she began to sob.

Between her sniffles, she managed to say that the service office that had connected them had refused to give her his address or information, telling her that it was their understanding that none of the squad had survived. She had mourned him as dead for six years. He had known that, of course. Mellie had told him that night, but to see it, to see her pain, was unbearable.

He extended his arm, and she threw herself into it, crying against his chest. He just let her cry, the tightness in his own heart easing as he realized how deeply she must have cared about him. He waited until her breathing had evened out to ask her about it.

“So, how did they wind up burnt? If you want to tell me, that is,” he added hurriedly.

“My guardian,” she said, her face twisted with pain and anger, and Clyde tensed involuntarily. Nothing good in her life started with that man. “The night I found out… after the ambush, he was pissed and… I don’t know why he’d gone through my room, other than that he could, and it made me feel violated every time, but… he was waiting for me with the box when I got in from my shift in the garage. I begged him to give them back to me, but he threw them into the fireplace. I reached in after them, and earned myself a few more of these,” she said, indicating the silvery lines that decorated her slender hands. He glanced at them, but then furrowed his eyebrows.

“You reached into a burning fireplace?” Clyde’s voice was a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Rey would have giggled, had she not felt so exposed; Clyde had always struck her as such a practical person, and reaching into an actual fire was about as impractical as it got. Instead, she shrugged, shrinking into herself a bit. “They were all I had left. My hands were pretty badly singed, though. When he realized my hands were burnt and bleeding, he screamed at me that I’d be useless in the garage and threw me out of the house. I walked to the nearest clinic, where they treated my burns and then they called my best friend Finn. I stayed that night with Finn and his parents, and then Finn walked me home the next day after he got out of his classes.”

Clyde took a deep, sharp breath, in and out through his nose, then another, trying to keep calm. She’d had Finn to help her. Finn, Clyde knew about through Rey’s letters — closest thing she had to a brother, she’d said. Either way, it had been years ago. He directed his thoughts away from murder and toward Rey.

“Unkar was completely shitfaced again — or maybe still — and he didn’t even notice Finn waiting in the hall. He just got on me, like he always did. He wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell him… He never listened anyway, but especially not when he was pissed. He said he’d read all the ‘filthy letters’ you sent me.”

At this, Clyde’s nostrils flared and his jaw clamped shut. There had never been anything in their letters that had been inappropriate; her friendship was a gift, and he had treated it as such. Even once he’d come home from the war, reading over her letters for the hundredth, or maybe thousandth time, heartbroken at losing contact, his feelings were protective, not amorous. He worried that she would feel he abandoned her, like her parents had. But then, when he’d re-read her letters the day before, he had begun to wonder if there had been more to it, on her side. The fact that she’d come across the Atlantic would seem to suggest that she felt something different from friendship for him. Now that she was there, beside him, perhaps he could find a way to ask her?

Her next words derailed that train of thought.

“Unkar said he always knew I’d been _that kind of girl_ cause I was already on my back all the time in his garage and I wasn’t going to get time off just because I was a stupid slag and had bandages over my hands. He said I had to earn my keep,” she finished with a mumble, curling in on herself in shame.

He may not have understood what exactly a ‘slag’ was, but the words ‘that kind of girl,’ and the notion of ‘earning her keep on her back’ made a white hot spike ricochet through Clyde, from his toes to the crown of his head, scorching every nerve in his body. His vision blurred and swam and he was overcome with the need to hunt down this waste of skin and make him _hurt_ for what he’d _said_ to Rey, what he’d _thought_ about Rey, what he’d wanted Rey to _do._ His hand made a fist, and his arm pulled a suddenly wide-eyed Rey tighter to him.

“He had no right to say those things to you, Rey,” his words laced with the all the weight that righteous fury can bestow. “That ain’t how you _treat_ your daughter. If I _ever_ lay eyes on him,” he said, his voice a deep growl, “I’ll let him know myself.”

Her heart warmed at his protective nature, but turned to ash as his choice of words crashed over her like icy water. Did he really see her as a daughter? She shrank away, the intimacy of the moment almost unbearable and too much of her heart already exposed, but Clyde’s arm was iron.

“Please,” she whispered, more tears spilling down her cheeks. He looked down at her as if she’d startled him; he released her instantly.

“Did I hurt you?” His brow furrowed and his eyes were filled with self-reproach.

Not physically, she thought. She shook her head.

“I—”

She drew her knees up until her feet were perched on the mattress, then rested her forehead against her knees, breathing deeply. When she looked up again, something in her face had changed, her eyes pained but her expression firm.

“I’m sorry, I… must still be more jet-lagged than I realized.”

He suddenly understood that she was shutting him out. But why? What had he said? He shook his head; he wasn’t letting this go that easily. She could get up and walk out the door whenever she pleased and never come back; he couldn’t take anything for granted, even though she was here right now. He turned his gaze back to her album.

“You didn’t stay there after that, did you? They told me someone was gonna look after you.”

She turned toward him, tipping her head in confusion. “What?”

“The last letter I sent, when it came back there was a note from the exchange office. It said they’d contacted someone about your ‘situation.’”

She looked almost angry at that. “Why would they—?”

He grabbed the **UNDELIVERABLE** letters from where they were resting on beside him, and handed her one. She took it, a minute tremble in her hand as she slowly pulled it out and read it. Watching her face was a revelation.

“You meant they tried to call the welfare office about Unkar. I thought you meant about the Storms.” She shook her head. “Gladys was always so nice.”

“Who’s Gladys?”

“She was General Kenobi’s secretary. She did have a soft spot for strays.” Rey’s smile was fond, if self-deprecating. “Always had tea and biscuits for me when I came by to pick up my letters.” She looked at the date again, and her expression darkened.

“May I see the other one?” she asked. Clyde, unsure of what she was looking for, handed it to her wordlessly.

The apprehension on her face was blown away in the _whoosh!_ of an exhale, a mixture of understanding, sadness, and relief replacing it. “I’d always wondered how Unkar found out about the letters. It usually took three or four days for a letter you sent from Iraq to get to London, and Gladys would hold them for me to pick up.  
  
I remember when I went to ask them about the–” she hesitated, the fear still close even though they were next to one another– “the bomb, she said she’d only just returned from a week’s holiday. Whoever was filling in for her could have tossed my letter into the courier’s bag by mistake… it probably came the same day that he threw my box in the fire.” She paused, her heart heavy. “He must have ransacked my room after the courier came by, since he knew there was something to look for.”

Clyde’s fist tightened again. “I should have known it wouldn’t leave you alone,” he muttered.

She saw the sadness and—_shame?_—that overtook his warm brown eyes, now downcast and darting, his beautiful lips marred by a frown. What on earth was he thinking?

“Should have known what wouldn’t leave me alone?”

Clyde blanched, and his throat went dry; he hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud, and he flailed internally, looking for something to say—anything but scaring her with the truth about the Logan curse.

“Clyde? Surely you don’t think this—” she gestured to her album— “is your fault somehow?”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his voice strained under the burden that he’d been the cause of both physical and emotional misery for Rey, even unknowingly.

“Clyde, no!” She covered his bicep with both of her hands, feeling almost guilty for indulging herself by touching him like that—but not guilty enough to stop. “It’s no one’s fault but Unkar’s that he’s a horrid, hateful man who loves hurting others!”

His eyes closed as he greedily soaked in the feeling of her strong, slender hands on his arm through the thin sleeve of his t-shirt. It was his left arm that she had grasped, fingers spanning from the crook of the elbow, just above the prosthesis, almost to his shoulder, and while he might have been self-conscious about which arm she’d grabbed, something about her touch soothed him, healed him just a little.

“If anything, Clyde,” she murmured, fighting to speak despite the pounding of her pulse in her ears and the sizzling of electricity through her fingers, “I’m grateful that you tried. You tried, harder than anyone else ever has, to stay in my life. You tried in spite of a situation that would have devoured a lesser man. You noticed, you cared, you _fought_ to reach me, and I l—”

His ears pricked up just as she turned her head away and covered her mouth with both hands. Had she been about to say—?

Mellie, standing in the doorway, gently cleared her throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m off to work. I’ll be back in time to take you in, Clyde.”

Clyde turned and nodded. “Alright.”

“Have a good day at work, Mellie,” Rey replied, her voice cheery, and the other woman returned a smile, then left, the sound of the door closing behind her the turning of a page. Whatever had been on the tip of Rey’s tongue had gone, but it had left behind a flame of hope in Clyde’s chest.


	7. The Law of Unintended Consequences, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as upending your life and flying to meet an old friend sounds like the stuff of dreamy romance novels, there are bits in between that are boring, painful, or just plain awkward.

On the way to work that afternoon, Clyde sat for a long moment, basking in the hug that Rey had given him before they left. His mind flowed between the present and the future, and he was nearly as surprised as Mellie when he broke their companionable silence.

“Mellie, have I gotten any mail lately?”

She frowned in thought, wondering what had gotten into him.

“No, Clyde, were you waiting for something in particular?”

“I wrote to the state to get my license back.”

When Mellie glanced at him, her face the picture of confused surprise, he found himself spilling his guts.

“Well, I realized with Rey coming in that there wasn’t going to be space for all of us, and I didn’t even invite her, you did, so _I_ can’t really ask her to get a hotel or something, but I know I can’t sleep on the couch the whole time Rey’s here. I ain’t as young as I used to be, and even when I was, I was too tall for the couch, so I’ve been thinking that I need to come up with some kind of plan, and I haven’t come up with much, other than to move back out to the trailer, but since Jimmy doesn’t seem to be coming around, I thought maybe, but maybe not—”

Clyde was_ babbling,_ which was unusual, to say the least, and Mellie interrupted him, hoping to stop him before he talked himself out of doing what he felt he needed to do.

“No, Clyde, I think it was a _good_ idea. You know I’ve never minded you living with me as long as you need to, my home is your home, and I’ve never minded taking you wherever you needed to go, but I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your own space again, and to have your independence.”

Mellie glanced at her brother, who nodded, before returning her eyes to the road.

“Besides,” she continued, a Cheshire grin spreading across her features, “little sisters are the worst third wheels in the world.”

It was telling that, rather than blowing up at her for the implications of her words, Clyde went red from his neck to his ears, and fixed his eyes on the windshield.

“How long ago did you send it in?” she asked, knowing she’d made her point, and not wanting him to stew in his embarrassment.

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“How long did they say it would take to get back to you?”

He shrugged. “They didn’t, really.”

“Do you think they sent it to the trailer?”

“I don’t know, Mellie. I guess they could have.”

“We can swing by there and check the mail. Should probably do that anyway.”

He looked at her nervously.

“It’s three o’clock on a Monday,” Mellie reasoned. “It’ll take half an hour, an hour tops. I’ll even help you inventory afterwards if you need it.”

He sighed, but she was right. He needed to check the mail, but more than that, he needed to get himself set up on his own again. Since Jimmy was gone, he had no reason to avoid the trailer, and someone needed to keep an eye on it, so that the place didn’t get stripped; he had no idea whether Jimmy had been going over there or not since he’d moved to Lynchburg. Besides, he didn’t want to keep relying on Mellie, as selfless and wonderful as she’d been. Everyone’s goodness had its limits, and Clyde didn’t want to find Mellie’s. He’d been relying on his sister’s hospitality for over two months now, and that was on top of all that she’d done for him while he was put away. He _almost_ felt bad about having practically bullied Mellie into taking money from him while he was living with her, at the very least to cover the groceries and the difference in her utility bills—and if she noticed the gas money he added to the pile, she said nothing. Even so… he hadn’t intended to stay with her as long as he had, or to need this much help. And… she was right about his independence with regard to Rey too, as much as he had been loath to even _think_ such a thing before.

The thought of living out at the trailer while Rey stayed with Mellie filled him with a strange kind of anxiety… but the thought of Rey living _with him,_ well, it was out of the question—at least, as things stood. He went over this morning’s conversation in his head once more. Rey had almost said ‘love,’ he was sure. As he considered what that meant, his heart and mind began to race one another down the precipice—whether of elation or panic, he couldn’t be sure. His fingers dug into his right leg in order to ground himself, but it was only partly successful; his mind slowed, but his heart soared. Sweet, lovely Rey. Faithful Rey, who had never forgotten him. Foolish Rey, who had reached into a fireplace to save the words he’d written for her.

“Clyde?” Mellie broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah, let’s get it over with,” he nodded.

There was quite a bit of mail, along with a snippy note from the postal carrier that they would begin refusing delivery and holding the mail at the post office if it wasn’t checked more regularly. It had been at least a month since he’d been out here, so that was probably fair. On finding the envelope from Charleston that held his license, Clyde swallowed. Getting his license reinstated had cost a pretty penny. It would be worth it, though. He needed to get himself back on his feet.

“Someone needs to come out here and cut the grass,” Mellie mused. Clyde nodded, continuing to sort through the mail. All of it was for him or “Resident,” and most of it was junk. Jimmy was having his mail sent to Lynchburg, then, meaning he had no reason to come by. Clyde huffed, but in the end, it would make it easier not to see him.

He unlocked the door and they went inside; the place was practically empty, sending a jolt through Clyde's ribs. The trailer felt feel cavernous and bereft. Clyde heard an exclamation of surprise from beside him.

“Well this ain’t gonna work,” Mellie said, tapping one nail against her teeth. She looked at her brother. “You trust me to handle it?”

He shook his head, suddenly feeling like he was underwater. “Mellie, I don’t think I can afford—”

“Clyde, don’t worry about that right now. Just, do you trust me to decorate? Nothing too girly, I promise,” she grinned.

Clyde sighed, a long-suffering sound. “If it’ll make you that happy to do it, yes, I trust you.”

Mellie squealed with glee, and he knew that he was in trouble.

“Good!” she crowed. “Ready to go?”

It wasn’t until later, when Clyde lost track of his inventory for the third time that afternoon, that he finally had to admit that, just maybe, he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

* * *

It was nearly dinnertime when Mellie got back home, and Rey was sitting on the couch, looking cozy in jeans and a hoodie, reading a book.

“Hey Rey,” she tossed over one shoulder as she walked into the kitchen, setting her purse on the table.

Rey jumped off the couch and made her way to the kitchen.

“Hi Mellie. Everything go ok?”

Mellie gave her an odd look.

“Well, you were gone for so long I figured something must have come up,” Rey explained.

At that, Mellie nodded, then turned her attention back to the pantry.

“Yeah, Clyde needed to run a few errands.”

“Ah.”

The silence became so thick with nervous energy that Mellie couldn’t focus, and she dropped the can of beans on the counter, the loud _tonk!_ startling both women.

“Can I help?” Rey asked.

Mellie shrugged.

“Barbeque pork is in the crockpot, and I was just going to warm up a can of beans, nothing special.”

Rey smiled.

“Sounds good! I haven’t had barbeque since the last time Poe made some.”

“Who’s Poe?”

“My brother Finn’s husband. He’s from New York, but his parents were born in Guatemala. He loves to cook.” Rey paused. “Mind if I make some toast?”

“Sure! For sandwiches?”

“For the beans,” Rey smiled, and Mellie wrinkled her nose; she’d never heard of such a thing.

“Would you like some toast?” Rey asked.

“Yeah, sure, you can make me some.”

Mellie returned to stirring the beans, then pulled a container of slaw out of the fridge. Mellie had moscato, Rey had a Bud Light, and the two women sat down to dinner. Mellie watched Rey pile beans on her toast and take a bite, savoring the sweetness. For her part, Mellie liked to top her pulled pork sandwiches with slaw. They ate in companionable silence until Rey cleared her throat.

“I feel silly asking this, because you’re already doing so much for me, but… I need to get some clothes. Where would you suggest?”

Mellie smiled; shopping was something she could _definitely_ do.

“What kind of clothes?”

“Mostly casual; maybe a couple of jumpers, some trousers, some pants.”

Mellie’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t trousers and pants the same thing?”

“No…?” Rey replied. “You wear your pants under your trousers.”

“Huh.” Mellie sipped her moscato. “Well, sure, I don’t see why not. We can head into Charleston tomorrow.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “All the way back to Charleston?”

Mellie shrugged. “There isn’t much around here in terms of clothes, unless you want to go to the Goodwill.”

“What’s that?”

“Thrift shop.”

Rey, who had worn cheap hand-me-downs most of her life by necessity and still did out of habit, struggled with Rey who wanted to wear nice things to impress Clyde.

It was no contest, really.

“Where do you shop?”

Mellie grinned. “I’ll take you there tomorrow—on one condition.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. “What’s that?”

“I need your help to do some furniture shopping.”

Rey looked around, her confusion evident. “But your furniture is nice, Mellie!”

“Not for me. For Clyde.”

Clyde was moving out? Really, it was none of Rey’s business, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bereft. His things were here; he lived here, didn’t he?

“Oh,” Rey replied, after a long silence. She shook her head, minutely, then put on a good smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course, I’d be happy to help. Thank you for asking me.”

Rey took a few more bites, chewing thoughtfully as her mind whirled.

“What does he need, exactly?”

“Well…” Mellie’s eyes shifted, and Rey wondered what was making the other woman hesitate. After what looked like a furious, if fast, internal debate, Mellie sighed, then sipped her wine. “Clyde and our older brother, Jimmy, lived together in a trailer not too far from here. Jimmy moved out and most of the furniture was his.”

“Alright, sure,” Rey nodded. A moment later, she added, “You know, I can probably build some of what he needs.”

Mellie hurried to chew and swallow her bite. “You can?”

Rey grinned. “Besides working as a mechanic, I’m actually quite good at carpentry. I built my own coffee table, bed frame, and tv stand from old pallets and bits and bobs.”

Mellie filed that away for later use. “Well, maybe tomorrow you can have a look at Clyde’s car. I’m sure it could use a tune-up.”

Rey lit up. “I’d love that! I’ll take a look at it first thing.”

“Well, that sounds fine. Let’s finish supper and then see what kind of things we can find online.”

As they polished off their plates, Mellie was intrigued and anticipating the shopping trip as well as the online browsing; there wasn’t a much better way to get to know a girl than by shopping with her.

Three hundred dollars and more than a little giggling over some of the truly tacky upholstery options later, they’d picked out a new couch: a handsome but functional navy blue sofa with a few throw pillows. Rey went to shower and change into her pajamas, mostly to give Mellie privacy in order to make payment. After waiting for the water to come on, Mellie turned her attention back to her computer, and added a few more items to the cart. Mellie knew for a fact that Clyde’s mattress was at least six years old, so a new one wasn’t anything her brother wouldn’t need… especially if things went right for once. Clyde deserved to have something work out in his favor for a change.

Unaware of Mellie’s scheming, a freshly-pajamaed Rey dropped her clothes in the washing machine, then snuggled up on the couch with the quilt and pillow, a dog-eared copy of one of her favorite novels to keep her company until Clyde got home.

That’s how Clyde found her when he and Mellie returned: a wisp of hair dangling in the corner of her mouth as she slept, her breathing gentle; her novel on the floor beside the couch; her face soft and angelic. Clyde’s heart was ready to burst, but somehow, he found the composure to reach down, gently pulling the stray lock out of her face and making sure she was tucked in. It felt awkward to go back to the guest room, knowing she’d slept there the night before, but he wasn’t going to wake her, even though he could likely carry her without much of a struggle. He changed into some shorts and laid down, surrounded by a scent he couldn’t quite name, but it smelled like sunshine and sweetness, and as he drifted, he couldn’t quite help wondering what it might be like to smell this every night when he went to sleep.


	8. The Law of Unintended Consequences, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is feeling like she doesn't fit in to Clyde's life, and Clyde struggles with the kind of life he has versus the kind of life he wants. They both begin to fear that this isn't going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: mention of suicide, mention of mental illness

The next morning, Clyde woke up earlier than usual, an exasperated groan escaping his chest once he figured out why. It was useless to explain to his hindbrain that just because his bed smelled like sunshine did _not_ mean Rey was in it. After 5 minutes of trying to think about literally anything else, Clyde resigned himself to the necessity of a cold shower.

Unfortunately, the morning was conspiring against him; this was a version of the Curse for which Clyde was woefully unprepared. He finished his frigid shower, got dressed, and poured himself a cup of coffee, then wandered outside — and promptly dropped it.

This was due to the fact that, on opening the door, he was treated to the sight of Rey, bent over the hood of his Pontiac, her perfect, peachy backside hovering in the air as she tiptoed on long, beautiful legs.

Startled by the smash of crockery, Rey tried to whirl around, whacking her head on the bonnet for her troubles.

“Ow, fuck!” she hissed, though loudly enough that Clyde could hear her, and his eyes went wide as his mouth went completely dry and the hair on his arms stood on end. A filthy mouth on a woman wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d take a liking to, but on Rey, well… apparently his arm hairs weren’t the only part of him excited by the prospect enough to stand on end. Unfortunately, she’d heard him and turned around, so he couldn’t just walk inside, and even if he thought he could have, his legs were already carrying him toward Rey rather than away from her.

“You ok?” he asked, his hand hovering over her head.

She grimaced. “Yeah, nothing wounded but my pride.”

“Good,” he nodded. “So… what’re you doing with my car?”

“Oh!” she blushed, and started gesturing toward the engine. “Mellie asked me to have a look at it; she said it was in an accident and hadn’t been driven for a couple of months.”

Clyde mostly successfully suppressed the dour look that sprang up. Rey didn’t notice.

“It actually looks pretty good, other than needing an oil change. I’d do that myself but I don’t have the equipment.”

“That’s alright,” Clyde shrugged. “We can take it by Earl’s later; I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

Rey shivered in the chilly autumn morning.

“Let’s head back inside. You want some breakfast?”

Rey nodded, but once they stepped up on the porch, a crunch underfoot reminded Clyde that he’d dropped his coffee mug.

Clearly, it was going to be one of those sorts of days. At least he’d put shoes on.

* * *

“Earl, this is Rey; Rey, Earl.”

“Pleased to meet you, Earl,” Rey beamed as she offered her hand, and Earl’s brows lifted at the lilt in her voice.

“Where’d Clyde manage to find you, darlin’?” he asked, giving her hand a warm shake.

Rey couldn’t help rather liking this bushy-faced, good-humored man. She wrinkled her nose and grinned.

“Long story, actually. We’ve known each other… nearly eight years?”

“Ah, war story,” Earl concluded.

Clyde nodded, trying and failing to stop his cheeks from turning pink at how utterly adorable Rey was. He was smitten like a kitten, that much was plain to see, and Earl’s eyebrows rose even further. He’d never seen the middle Logan this twitterpated.

“So Clyde, my garage isn’t the usual place for bringing a date—” He noticed Rey’s eyes dart to Clyde and Clyde turn even redder— “so what brings you in today?”

Clyde cleared his throat. “Rey was giving the car a look this morning, said it was due for an oil change.”

The bearded man gave Rey another appreciative once-over.

“All this and a mechanic too?”

Earl chuckled as Rey blushed. Clyde shifted, caught between possessiveness and friendship. He had brought Rey to the garage, after all — he had certainly hoped Rey and Earl would hit it off, so he really didn’t have grounds for acting like a jealous beau.

“I practically grew up under cars,” she said, shrugging modestly. “Been working with them since before I was allowed to use them.”

“Well then, why don’t you come on back here and have a look?”

He led Rey back to the workshop, casually keeping them both in sight of Clyde the entire time, and something inside Clyde relaxed. Earl was a good friend and hadn’t ever been the kind of man to act that way. Besides, it was worth it to watch her eyes light up.

They were smiling and she was chatting as they returned to the lobby.

“…only here on a short-term visa. We hadn’t had a chance to meet in person, so I thought I’d come to America. See what it’s like.”

Earl nodded sagely. “And what do you think so far?”

“It’s quiet. Peaceful. You wouldn’t believe how mad London can be! Still, I think I’d miss it if I were gone for too long,” she trailed off thoughtfully.

Clyde’s expression told her that he was gutted at the idea of her leaving, a notion that opened still more buds of blossoms in her secret garden. He quickly hid it, of course, but she had seen it. She could consider it at her leisure.

Earl shrugged, then pulled out a cigarette, which the other two declined.

“I don’t get the big city, myself. I’m gonna have a smoke, then I’ll get started.” He stepped through the garage to stand outside, then lit his cigarette.

“He doesn’t usually take more than half an hour,” Clyde said.

“Well, that’s long enough for a walk, isn’t it?”

He offered his arm. “Where to?”

She put her hand in his elbow, a move that had both of them feeling sparks, and waved her free hand airily.

“Wherever.”

Not long into their walkabout, Rey’s phone pinged.

_Everything’s on its way!_

Mellie’s message seemed almost giddy, but Rey found she couldn’t quite smile. Another message pinged.

_Ready to do some shopping?_

Anxiety crushed Rey’s chest, and she was almost dizzy for a moment. Time. Rey needed time to talk to Clyde, to find out why he would move away when she’d only just arrived.

_ **We’re out at Earl’s at the moment. His car needs an oil change.** _

_Let me know when you head back._

They walked on a little longer, the last blades of grass losing their green as autumn pressed on.

“Clyde?”

“Hmm?” He looked over at her, and couldn’t help but smile.

Rey hesitated; she didn’t know how to ask Clyde if he was leaving her without sounding neurotic or frighteningly dependent.

“May I ask how long you’ve lived with your sister?”

He stopped, suddenly suspicious, and his smile turned into something more uncomfortable.

“What makes you ask?”

“Well, she mentioned furniture shopping, and when I asked, she said that your brother moved out and took most of the furniture with him.”

“…yes?”

His hesitation, his reluctance to elaborate, made her wonder if perhaps she was intruding where she was not welcome, and she paused, unsure of how or even whether to continue. She turned her face away from him.

“Never mind. It’s none of my business, anyway.”

The brisk cheer of the morning soured under the awkward conversation. A wave of doubts and questions washed over Rey and left her feeling eerie and on edge, like she had stepped into the twilight zone. As much as it pained her to even consider the possibility that anything about Clyde was dangerous, or even just shady, she knew that she ignored her instincts at her peril; they’d kept her alive for twenty-three years in some rather seedy situations.

Who was Clyde Logan, truly? What did Rey know about him, other than the sense of him from letters that had come so many years ago? Clyde and Mellie were certainly nice enough, but Rey had seen enough in her life to know what people looked like when they were keeping secrets, choosing their words with too much care and crafting half-truths. She’d seen it on Mellie’s face the night before, when she’d told Rey about Clyde needing furniture for his trailer. She was hearing it in Clyde’s rigid hesitation now. An older brother moving out and taking the furniture with him sounded more like a divorce than anything. Had Clyde even mentioned an older brother in his letters? Rey suddenly couldn’t remember.

It hurt that fear was keeping her from letting him fully into her confidence — yesterday, she’d only just caught herself before she’d confessed that she loved him. If she wanted the chance for this to be the kind of relationship she’d always hoped for, for him to be the man she’d dreamed of for so long, she was going to have to make that confession. How could she, though? How could she take such a risk when she was not fully in his confidence? As much as her own fear and hesitation disappointed her, the idea that the Logans had some kind of dark secret was far more terrifying, and Rey’s sense of alienation and vulnerability were acute.

Clyde felt a chill wash over him as sweat prickled on his forehead, his neck, and his hand, and he would have given anything to know what Mellie had said to Rey, as well as exactly what had possessed Mellie to say anything in the first place. What would he tell her? What _could_ he tell her? He would have to tell her at least some of what had happened that spring; clearly she knew something was up, and Clyde was not about to risk insulting her intelligence by pretending otherwise.

Besides, if she hung around long enough, she’d hear it from one of the local gossips; they’d certainly had plenty of grist for their mill thanks to the Logan family. He could almost hear them now:  
“That middle Logan, bless his heart! You know they said he was trying to _kill_ himself when he drove through that window?! I heard that they sent him to jail so that he could get some _help.”_  
“I’ve always thought that something must have happened over there in Iraq that made him a little—” then they would point at their temple and give the universal gesture for ‘crazy’— “he ain’t never been same since he came back all those years ago.”  
“Well, he always was a little too quiet, you know, they say it’s the quiet ones you got to watch out for.”

No matter what way he looked at it, Clyde Logan was a broken man, with pieces missing, who ran a bar in the middle of Podunk, West Virginia. He hadn’t even been a particularly successful criminal. In the end, what could he possibly say that would make it worth Rey’s while to overlook the reality of who he was and what he’d done?

Still, whatever his faults may have been, Clyde was no coward. He stopped, and Rey turned a questioning eye on him. He was gutted by the tinge of fear behind it. His voice was low, pitched to soothe, as if she were a skittish cat.

“Rey … Mellie told you that had a car accident. What she didn’t tell you was that I went to jail because of it.”

There was a long pause.

“Did someone… die?”

He blanched. **“No,** no. Nothing like that. But I wound up going through the front window of a store — no one got hurt, but there was a lot of damage.”

Her face became all sharp angles and fury, and they began walking, now at a brisker pace.

“How could they send you to prison for an accident?!” she fumed, stomping on the gravel.

“Well…they don’t take kindly to people driving without a license. Mine had expired a couple of years before, and I just…” he shrugged, reddening.

He watched her anger ebb away and her brow furrow as she absorbed the information.

“So your brother—what’s his name?”

“Jimmy.”

“That still doesn’t explain the situation with Jimmy.”

He sighed, not wanting to lie to Rey, even by omission, but knowing that telling her too much would get her hands dirty with a serious crime that had no payoff. He could at least keep her safe from that much.

“While I was in jail, Jimmy moved out of state.”

Clyde could swear that Rey’s nails and teeth had just grown an involuntary inch, and her voice was dark with frigid fury. She whirled to face him.

“He abandoned you?”

“He… from what I heard, he moved south to be closer to his daughter.”

A rapid-fire series of emotions played out across Rey’s face, and Clyde couldn’t keep up with all of them.

“Oh.” The walk resumed. “Well, that’s important, but… ‘from what you heard’ sounds like he didn’t actually tell you.” Rey’s tone was still cool, but not quite as deadly. Unfortunately, there was no way around this one.

“He didn’t. We haven’t spoken since a few weeks after I went to jail.”

She scowled.

“Mellie didn’t want me to be alone after I got out, so she moved my things to her house. I’m ready to be in my own house and sleep in my own bed again, though.”

She looked at the ground, then nodded.

“I know I’d hate to overstay my welcome,” she murmured.

Before he could respond or reassure her, they were back at the garage, and Earl was waving them in. Rey pasted a smile on, and it was as if they had been an ordinary couple out for a walk, and nothing more.


	9. Monkey Wrench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde moves out, and Rey and Mellie begin to forge a bond all their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: child abandonment, nightmares

Clyde leaned in, close to Rey’s ear, the fear that she could just up and go filling him with a sense of urgency and uncharacteristic boldness.

“We’ll finish this conversation later, alright?” he murmured.

Rey couldn’t stop the thrill that zipped up her spine, or the shiver that chased it, at his low baritone in her ear. It was delicious and almost frightening, the sense of danger only adding to the intensity. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and nodded.

Earl watched them with a smirk; they were high entertainment, not leastwise because of the novelty of the middle Logan being the one with an interest.

“You two done?” he asked, his amusement evident in his voice. “Your car is ready, Clyde.”

“Thank you, Earl.” Clyde’s attempt to muster some dignity to mask his embarrassment was foiled by the flush that overtook his cheeks and ears. He stepped up to the counter and pulled out his wallet.

Rey hung back, finding herself a little bewildered by Clyde’s rapid shifts from cagey to conspiratorial to awkward. She shook her head gently to clear it, then Clyde gave her a gentle nudge.

“Rey?”

“Hmm?”

“You ready?”

“Oh! Of course! Lovely to meet you, Earl!”

The older man nodded. “You too, Rey. Hopefully Clyde’ll keep you around.”

Clyde’s neck, ears, and cheeks, which had almost made it back to normal, went fully crimson.

“Earl,” Clyde rumbled, ushering Rey out the door. The other man merely chuckled.

After Clyde closed her door and got into the Pontiac, they rode in silence as Rey began to ponder everything she’d learned in the last day.

First: Clyde was moving back into his own house.

Second: He had only been living at Mellie’s house temporarily, to get back on his feet after finishing his prison sentence.

Third: Clyde had been in prison for having a car accident whilst driving without a license.

Fourth: Clyde had a brother who had been living with him, but had moved out of the place they had shared in order to live closer to his daughter.

Fifth: Clyde’s brother had moved away while Clyde had been in prison, without telling him.

Considering the whole situation, Rey mused, it was perfectly natural that Clyde wouldn’t want to discuss it with her. It was likely painful and embarrassing, and really, it wasn’t her business to know.

It’s not as if you’re married, Rey chided herself. Or even seriously considering the prospect. The man is entitled to his privacy! Leave the suspiciousness to Finn and stop making mountains out of molehills!

A sixth consideration popped into her mind unbidden, courtesy of the piece of Rey that still thought of Clyde as her own personal Darcy: Have you not noticed the way that he looks at you? Just this morning, when you mentioned going back home — or the first time that he saw you at the airport! That wasn’t a man who didn’t care or was cold or bored — far from it!

Romantic Rey made a very good point, Rey decided. No, most likely, Mellie had been cagey not because she had something to hide, but because it wasn’t her story to tell, and Clyde because he wasn’t ready to tell it. All things considered, the best thing she could do for Clyde was to be there for him — which was what she’d wished for in the first place, wasn’t it? And besides, it wasn’t as if he’d shut her down completely; he had said that he still wanted to discuss it with her, after all. With that internal struggle won, Rey was eager to break the silence and move on.

“He seems like a nice gentleman,” Rey offered, and Clyde shrugged in acknowledgement.

“He helped Mellie keep the bar running while I was…” He trailed off, and Rey shook her head.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Clyde. I shouldn’t have been so nosy.”

“It was gonna come up sooner or later, Rey,” he sighed, resigned.

“Maybe so, but I ought to have trusted you to tell me in your own time. I won’t ask about it anymore… I know you’ll tell me if and when you’re ready, but… please, I know you don’t owe me any explanation.”

Clyde didn’t know whether to be frustrated or grateful, and before he could figure out exactly how he felt, they were pulling into Mellie’s driveway. Mellie was waiting by her car, and after bestowing another hug on Clyde, the girls were off to Charleston for some purpose unknown to him.

Clyde sank onto the couch. Perhaps the reason that the Curse hadn’t prevented Rey’s visit was because it would be more painful, rather than less, to have her here and know her goodness firsthand, only to have her fly out of his life in a few short weeks, and probably count herself lucky.

Suddenly deprived of company, Clyde decided to head over to Duck Tape a little early, and give the place a good scrubbing. He went through the motions of counting in his inventory from weekly delivery and cleaning the bar, but all he could think about was the hellfire in Rey’s eyes. His heart was telling him that there was something he needed to understand, some message that she had been trying to get across to him, but he’d been too lost in trying to keep from spilling his guts to understand what that message might have been.

* * *

Rey sat up with a yawn, the pre-dawn grey filtering in through the window. Though her body was stubborn, making her fight for each hour of difference, she was slowly shaking off the jet lag. Her exposed skin prickled with goosebumps after leaving the warmth of the couch, where she’d fallen asleep again waiting for Clyde to get home.

The clock in the kitchen read a quarter to seven, which was better than yesterday by a full hour. Rey smirked as she made her way over to the coffee machine, carefully measuring scoops and filling it with the bottle of distilled water that stayed on the counter.

A few moments later, wrapped in a blanket, she walked out to the porch with her mug of coffee to call her mum. She’d check the dozen or so notifications she had later.

“Good morning, Rey,” Esther smiled, her accented English and warm tone beaming.

“Morning, mum. Is it a good time to call? How are you, how’s dad?”

“Better hearing from you, my dear,” she replied, sipping her tea. “It’s always a good time to talk to you, especially with you so far away. It looks dark there; what time is it?”

“It’s about seven, I think. Nice to come out and watch the sun rise in the mornings.” Rey paused. “I do miss you, mum.”

Esther pursed her lips, listening for the things Rey might not be saying.

“They treat you well? You’re happy?”

“Yes, mum. Mellie’s been a wonderful hostess. Took me clothes shopping yesterday.”

“I saw the pictures, oyin, you look lovely. And what about your… friend?”

“Clyde’s well. He works nights, running a pub down here, and during the day, he or Mellie take me around to places in town. I’ve met some lovely people.”

Rey paused, trying to figure out how to say any of the things on her mind without upsetting or frightening her adoptive mother. Her mother was a perceptive woman, however, and latched on to Rey’s hesitation right away.

“What is it you’re not telling me, daughter?”

Rey froze, then relaxed. She’d just have to do the best she could; she’d been caught and Esther would be hurt and offended by a polite lie.

“I… well,” Rey decided to go with what would probably be the least alarming of her thoughts. She curled up, pulling the phone close and looking around, making sure no one else was there to hear her, voice barely above a whisper. “I think I love him, mum, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

Esther’s gentle, maternal hesitation had Rey’s heart in her throat.

“My girl, how can you know? You wrote letters with him, but that was years ago, and now you’ve known him for two days!”

“I know, mum… if I heard someone else say this I’d probably think they were mad, but… he’s such a good man, and so gentle. Sometimes I think I can feel how much he wants to take care of me — which is funny because I came down here thinking that he needed my help. I just… I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I do about him.”

“Well, you deserve happiness, Rey. You spent too long without it, but…” Esther frowned, knowing that what she was about to say might hurt her daughter’s heart. “It would be easy to be afraid that there’s something wrong with you, after the way your parents left you and that man abused you. It would be easy to be afraid that you’ll never find love. Don’t believe the lie, my Rey. I trust you; believe in yourself enough not to make a decision out of fear.”

The words were raw and powerful, and they struck a nerve, but Rey could see on her adoptive mother’s face that they were spoken in love, not to hurt. She took a shaky breath, then another.

“I’m not afraid. I know that he cares about me, I just… don’t know how.”

Esther looked pensive. “That is something that only time and attention will tell you.”

“True.” Rey shifted gears. “How’s the weather been?”

“We’re due for a little rain tomorrow, but it’s been normal for the time of year, about fourteen or fifteen degrees.”

“It’s been quite hot here, about twenty degrees, sometimes higher… not much rain at all.”

“Well, you must know we miss you every day, Rey. Though I’m glad that your trip is going well, I can’t wait for you to be home.”

“I know, mum. I love you too. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but I’ll be in close touch.”

Esther sighed. “I’ll feel better when I can mark your return date on the calendar.”

Rey’s lip twitched in a smile; while some people might have been irritated, Rey had seen too much of the harsher side of life not to be gratified at how much the Storms cared for her.

“I’ll be home before you know it, mum.”

“Take care, my girl.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Rey sipped her coffee on the porch for a while before going back inside to prepare herself for Clyde’s departure. He might not have been going across the Atlantic, but it felt like he was leaving for the other side of the world.

* * *

A mattress, a couch, and some dining chairs later, Rey was hammering an L-joint into her pallet wood coffee table when her hammer abruptly stopped. Mellie looked up.

“Need something?”

“Mellie, I— I’ve been wondering about something.”

Mellie’s screwdriver stilled. “What’s that?”

“I just… Clyde told me about Jimmy the other day, and… it sounds like you’ve been doing so much to take care of Clyde… and then inviting me on top of it… I just…”

Mellie held her breath, not sure where this was going, and did her best to keep a poker face.

“You picked me up from the airport, and you’ve been driving everywhere; we’re redecorating the trailer; you took me shopping. I was just thinking that you probably haven’t had a moment to yourself in months, and… I don’t want to be a burden. If you want some peace and quiet now that Clyde has moved… I understand.”

It was Rey’s turn to hold her breath while Mellie blinked, and a heavy silence filled the air, pressing down on them both.

“It has been a lot,” Mellie agreed, her voice full, cool, and solid, reminding Rey of steel wrapped in velvet. “But Rey, you need to understand that I don’t do anything I don’t want to. Some women might, but not me.”

“Oh, well, that’s good, I mean—”

“And you shouldn’t either. If you don’t want to be here, Rey, then you shouldn’t be.”

“Now I never said that!” Rey protested, her pitch rising even as her voice took on a very measured, clipped quality. “Believe me, there are enough barriers to transatlantic flight that if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have overcome them!”

“Good. Now you can stop talking about yourself like it’s a chore to be around you.”

Rey’s mouth fell open, but Mellie wasn’t finished shocking her yet.

“Listen, you seem like the kind of woman who likes her talk straight. I don’t know everything about you and Clyde, but I know that you mean something to each other. I have no idea where your visit is going, but if I thought you’d be bad for my brother, I would never have invited you. So how about you just… enjoy being here until you don’t, and we’ll work it out then?”

Rey’s cheeks were scarlet, and she couldn’t look Mellie in the face. Little sounds that might have been the beginning of a reply issued from her mouth, but words completely failed her for the first dozen attempts.

“You… think I’m good for Clyde?” she finally gasped.

Mellie shrugged, but smiled. “Since he found out you were coming, he’s been more active than I’ve seen him in months… maybe a couple of years. Clyde’s… well, I wouldn’t say he’s been content to go where life takes him, but he’s been drifting for a long time. All that changed when you came back into the picture.”

Rey’s shaky breaths were the only sound for a long moment.

“I know I can’t really ask you for anything else, but please, promise me that once things have settled down, you’ll find a way to take a vacation, to do something that’s just for you. Your family is important, but you’re important all on your own.”

Mellie smiled.

“It’s sweet of you to worry about me.”

“I can’t help but notice what you’re not saying. I’m not going to forget, you know. I’ll harass you from across the Atlantic if I have to.”

“You just might have to, but I’ll try.”

“I suppose I can be content with that.” Rey’s words were punctuated by a long-suffering sigh, and the two women laughed, the bonds between them shifting and warming into something more than an alliance for the sake of Clyde Logan. Just maybe, Rey Johnson and Mellie Logan could be friends in their own right, a thought that buoyed Rey’s spirits.

It was after eight when they stopped, the grumbling of Rey’s stomach audible over the roar of the vacuum cleaner.

“Dang, girl, why didn’t you say you were hungry?!” Mellie teased.

“Didn’t think about it, I guess,” Rey shrugged.

“Pizza?”

“Do I get voted off the island for liking the wrong toppings?”

“Possibly…” Mellie’s eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “Why, are you one of those pineapple types?”

“…I will literally eat anything that’s not poisoned, Mellie. You order whatever you like, I’m sure it’ll be scrummy!”

“‘Scrummy,’ huh?” The word sounded hilarious in Mellie’s country drawl, and Rey fought to control her grin.

“Scrumptious?”

Mellie shook her head, smiling, and her voice carried a note of happy resignation.

“I’m gonna have to learn British, aren’t I?”

* * *

After 10, business had slowed to a crawl, so Clyde was home by 11:30 — and it only took that long because he had been halfway to Mellie’s before he remembered that the trailer was waiting for him. He’d debated continuing on to his sister’s house anyway and moving in the morning, if only to see Rey, but Rey had been asleep each night by the time he’d gotten back, and hopefully she was finally using the guest bed tonight. With a short but heavy sigh, he’d turned around at the gas station and headed out toward the trailer, doing his best not to feel bereft.

As he pulled up to the trailer, he saw that the yard had been mowed — no doubt Mellie had paid some local kid to do that — and the porch light had been replaced, the glow cutting through the chilly darkness. He unlocked the door, dropped his ruck, and looked around. The new couch was a cozy-looking navy blue, and Mellie had replaced the old moth-eaten curtains with heavy-looking but soft pale grey drapes. A fresh pine coffee table and two side tables gave the trailer a rustic feel. The carpet was the same old shag from back when God was a boy, but that would have been well beyond any reasonable budget. A small, white, rectangular table and a pair of white wooden chairs graced the kitchen, their seats covered with black cushions. There was a note on the table in Mellie’s loopy handwriting.

> _Clyde,_
> 
> _We hope you like the new trailer. The coffee table and two end tables are Rey’s housewarming gift to you; she built them herself! She says they’re made of ‘reclaimed wood,’ and tells me you need to use a drink coaster until she’s able to apply a sealer to them, probably this weekend._

He let out a low whistle, overwhelmed by having something that Rey made for him, and generally impressed with the changes. True to her word, Mellie had kept the decor simple and clean; not a stitch of fancy embroidery, wild color, or outrageous animal print to be seen.

The note continued:

> _Your mattress was squeakier than a chatty rat, so you got a new one of those too. You can’t even get mad at me about it since it was something you bought for yourself, really, with all that extra money you tried to slip me when you thought I wouldn’t notice._

She had drawn a little winking face, and he grimaced. So much for outsmarting his sister.

> _When you’re ready, the next step will be to set up the second bedroom, either as an office or a den, or even a guest room._

When he got to the bedroom, his old bed was still in place, though the linens were fresh, and the curtains had been replaced with thick, heavy, black ones.

He headed back to the front room, locked the door, turned out the porch light, and grabbed his ruck, tossing it into the bedroom and fishing out a towel. Then, he went and turned on the thermostat and the bathtub. After a few moments, the pipes had finished sputtering and the heater had stopped smelling like burning, so Clyde stripped and got into the shower, grateful for the total privacy that he now enjoyed. There wasn’t any soap or shampoo, but he didn’t let that stop him from standing under the water and letting the heat dissolve his worries for a moment.

Stepping out of the shower, Clyde knew he was grateful, but he couldn’t feel anything except wrung out like a wet sponge. He dried off, combed his hair, slid on some boxers, and crawled under the covers.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was that Mellie had completely outdone herself; Clyde was sure he’d never felt a mattress so comfortable.

After what felt like a few seconds, Clyde blinked, and looked around. He stood in a dark, snowy forest, buttoned up in a flannel coat, and he was moving through the snow as quickly as he could. Rey was calling for him, and fear rang in her every cry.

“Clyde? Clyde, where are you? Please, I’ve lost you! Clyde!”

He broke into a run, hearing her pleas for him, but as he listened, her voice got fainter, not louder. He turned and looked, spotting her almost immediately; she was in a blood-red coat, kneeling in the snow, reaching toward him as she hollered for him. No matter what Clyde did, though, his feet only carried him away from her. He was shocked at his body’s own betrayal; he was one of the few who knew the kinds of scars she carried, especially her parents’ abandonment of her, and yet here he was, walking away and leaving her when she needed him most.

Horror stapled his mouth closed, no matter how much he fought to call back to her, to tell her that he loved her, that he would never leave her. Then, the winds roared and the ground shook, splintering the nearby trees and blinding him with snow, pushing him away. He braced himself against the storm just in time for it to die down, a gentle snow falling on an open field, empty except for a red coat. Wherever she was now, Rey was surely going to freeze to death before he could reach her.

He pushed with all of his might, wading through the snow, desperate to find her before she came to harm.

He woke up alone, bathed in sweat, screaming her name.

* * *

The night had not been kind to her. Rey had dreamed all night of her parents, beginning with the last time she remembered seeing them, a grubby little four-year-old tomboy whose mother’s last words to her were “too dirty to love.” Little Rey would have stayed in the bath until she was pruny all over if it would have meant they wouldn’t leave, that they’d come back for her, take her, be proud of her. It was no use, though; she had never been a wanted child, at least, not until the Storms had taken her in, though she had been old enough that they hadn’t had much influence over her intellectual and spiritual development. Besides, as Finn Storm had so eloquently put it, what kind of rubbish says that to their own child? Rational Rey knew she was better off. Romantic Rey had absolute faith that Clyde would never abandon her. Little Rey, on the other hand, had doubts on both counts.

Rey had been certain that Clyde would come by the house that morning. When she didn’t see him at breakfast, her confidence began to waver.

“Mellie, did you hear from Clyde last night? Or this morning?”

Mellie checked her phone, then shook her head. She sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

“It’s only nine, Rey; I imagine he’s not quite awake yet.”

Rey breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“True.”

Once the clock rolled around to ten, Mellie gave the trailer a call, but it just rang and rang with no answer. Perhaps Jimmy had taken the phone with him… or perhaps Clyde was enjoying his mattress and sleeping in.

“Why don’t you come down to the shop with me today? I’ll be there most of the day and there’s no telling how late Clyde’s gonna sleep in… wouldn’t want you to get too bored.”

Rey’s immediate impulse was to refuse, but Mellie’s offer was kind. Still, as Rey considered it, going in there would be meeting loads of new people… who would want to know about her and why she was there… who would make assumptions. Besides, what if Clyde came by to see her before he went to work? Romantic Rey swooned at the idea.

“Thank you just the same, Mellie, but I think I’ll stay here. I’m overdue to give my brother a call and wouldn’t mind a quiet day, if that’s alright?”

To each their own, Mellie thought, though the idea of sitting around someone else’s house all day with no car was enough to make her skin crawl.

“Sure thing, Rey. You know how to find me.”

With that, Mellie left for work, and Rey was left to her own devices.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, Clyde peeled his eyelids open and looked around in the darkness blearily. It took several long moments to register that he was in his old room. He hadn’t hooked up his alarm clock yet, and so (seeing as he refused to carry a cell phone), he had no idea what time it was. Sleep had been fitful at best, haunted by nightmares that took ages to wake from and were too easy to slip back into.

Once he was sure he had all the limbs he’d gone to bed with, he swung his feet over the side and shambled into the bathroom. Daylight was blazing, and his steps faltered; those must have been the real deal blackout curtains Mellie had bought.

After using the facilities and splashing a little cold water on his face, he made his way out to the kitchen. The wall clock was gone — Jimmy had taken it, then.

The clock on the stove read — one in the afternoon?!

“Shit, shit, _shit!”_

Clyde hurried back to his room and got dressed for work, all thoughts of visiting Mellie’s house — that is, visiting Rey — necessarily on hold. He dragged a comb through his hair and brushed his teeth, then practically flew out the door.

Fortunately, much like Clyde, all the state troopers in the area had someplace else to be, and he made it to Duck Tape in 12 minutes flat.

* * *

Mellie came home to a house that smelled of herbs and warmth, and a quietly despondent Rey, who was curled up on the couch with her nose buried in a book, and who appeared not to notice Mellie’s arrival. She walked into the kitchen to find her stewpot on the stove, a soup bubbling away inside.

“Smells good, Rey! What’dja make?”

“Oh, hi, Mellie,” came a soft, shy voice, and Rey shuffled to the kitchen entry. “I made potato soup. You didn’t have any leeks so I just used some green onions, hope you don’t mind.”

There was a pop, and Mellie’s tone bordered on incredulous as she placed dough rounds on a baking sheet.

“Why would I mind coming home to dinner?”

Rey smiled gently, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“A fair point.”

There was a lengthy pause, weighted with disappointment.

“Clyde didn’t come by today, did he?” Mellie ventured, after sliding the biscuits in the oven.

“I’m sure he got busy putting his place in order…” Rey tried weakly.

“Well, and he still has to run the bar. Knowing my brother, he’s bit off more than he can chew, but he’ll never complain about it.”

“True, but… to whom would he complain? You’ve already done so much for him, and he’s certainly not going to complain to me.”

I’m still not in his confidence. The bitter thought rose in Rey’s throat and she swallowed it down, excusing herself.

Mellie shook her head at Rey’s retreating back; the other woman had only been here for three days, and Mellie already understood Rey well enough to suspect that she wouldn’t be returning for supper.

“The two of y’all ain’t gonna get anywhere if y’all can’t figure out how to talk about your feelings…” she sighed, sliding the biscuits into the oven and shutting the door.


	10. Put Up or Shut Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was during one of the momentary lulls, when Rey had looked more than a little forlorn, that Mellie had concocted a plan that even she would admit sounded like it came out of a Brat Pack movie: go shopping for a ‘night on the town’ outfit, give Rey a makeover, and take Duck Tape by storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: kissing

A hot Saturday morning greeted Mellie and Rey as they left for Charleston to do some more clothes shopping. This time, though, they were women on a mission.

Rey had surprised Mellie on Thursday by actually coming back into the kitchen and sitting down for dinner, and the youngest Logan had managed to talk her guest into spending the day with her on Friday. Rey hadn’t wanted to while away another day in someone else’s home anticipating a visit that might never happen, stewing in solitude, so she’d agreed, despite her reservations about how she might be perceived as an outsider, or worse, as some kind of smooth operator. None of those fears came to pass, however, and the day had been unexpectedly enjoyable; Mellie had worked while Rey sat in a nearby chair and listened to the local talk. The first time that Mellie introduced her as a friend of the family, Rey held back a few tears — and her breath, expecting suspicion and disbelief. Instead, she found pragmatic acceptance, and more than a little curiosity about her status as a foreigner.

It was during one of the momentary lulls, when Rey had looked more than a little forlorn, that Mellie had concocted a plan that even she would have admitted sounded like it came out of a Brat Pack movie: It was clear to Mellie that they were in love and both too emotionally scarred to take the risk of actually admitting it out loud. So, Mellie proposed shopping for a ‘night on the town’ outfit and going to Duck Tape. Once they had found the perfect dress and shoes, she planned to surprise Rey with a makeover, doing her hair and makeup. If seeing Rey all dolled up didn’t make her brother act, then he was beyond hope, or at least beyond Mellie’s help.

So it was on Saturday morning that Rey was on the road with Mellie, surrounded by bold, crisp foliage and the smell and feel of autumn at its peak.

“You know, I think I like these country roads. The trees are beautiful.”

Mellie smiled.

“It grows on you, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Rey nodded. “I told Earl that I would miss London too much to move to the country — whether here or in England,” she hastily amended, “—but I could certainly spend a lot of time in it.”

“I’d rather have the choice to be surrounded by all the noise and people or not,” Mellie opined, “and living out here, so long as I have my wheels, gives me that choice.”

By the time the two women went to a cafe for a late lunch, they had spent the entire day talking about cars and racing, both Formula One and NASCAR. There was, Rey decided, a sublime pleasure in talking shop with another woman who loved cars as much as she did. It added a satisfying depth that Mellie was so feminine; Rey admired the fact that Mellie was so unabashedly both, and over their first glass of wine, she said as much.

Mellie gave her a sly smile; she couldn’t have picked a better opening to tell Rey what she had planned.

“You could give it a try, you know.”

“Oh no,” Rey flailed, “I don’t have the first clue how to do what you do!”

“Lucky you that’s what I do for a living, then,” Mellie purred, savoring both the minor and the major mischief she was about to cause. “After lunch, we’ll head to one more shop and then we’ll get you ready.”

“…ready for what?” Rey asked, her eyes wide. 

* * *

It was a lively Saturday evening at Duck Tape, busy enough to keep Clyde from being able to brood on missing Rey, but not slammed.

At the sound of the door opening, Clyde looked up and swallowed, though it did nothing to soothe his instantly-parched mouth and throat. The object of his thoughts was lovely at any time, but to eyes that hadn’t seen Rey in two days, she was a vision, wrapped in a lacy grey dress that showed her slender, womanly curves to advantage. It was probably a touch too fancy for a bar like Duck Tape, but Clyde wouldn’t dream of complaining. She set off the lace with a wide, shiny blue belt, and wore matching blue leather and suede boots that looked like something out of one of those 80’s teenager movies. Her white jean jacket made the dress a little more casual, but wasn’t going to do much to protect against October’s evening chill.

She walked in with Mellie, and the two women were smiling, Rey’s voice enthusiastic and Mellie nodding. Her chestnut hair was gently curled, and bounced as she spoke, her large hazel eyes and excited demeanor drawing appreciative looks and murmurs from no few of the young men who frequented the bar. Clyde’s lips turned down — just in time for Rey to notice him behind the bar. She froze, her eyes widening with momentary hurt, and Mellie caught the confusion and upset on Rey’s face, then traced the other woman’s gaze to Clyde. She narrowed her eyes at her brother’s scowl, but firmed her grip on Rey’s elbow, guiding her to sit next to Mellie’s usual chair.

Once the two women had sat down, Clyde brought Mellie her usual glass of white wine, but before he could ask what she wanted, Rey excused herself with a mumble. Mellie pointed the way to the restroom before Rey could ask, and the younger woman slunk off, grateful. Clyde watched her go with a confused pang reverberating in his chest. Rey had only just disappeared into the doorway when Clyde’s attention was brought back to the bar by a sharp sensation in his good arm.

“Clyde Logan, what on _earth_ has gotten into you?!” Mellie hissed, her tone and grip promising grievous bodily harm if he didn’t tread very carefully.

He looked at Mellie, his brow furrowed, his lips pursed.

“You didn’t see the way they were looking at her,” he rumbled, his nostrils flaring as his chest heaved.

“Well, she didn’t either, Clyde! Any fool could see that girl’s only got eyes for you, and those eyes saw you glare at her the first time she sets foot into your bar!” Mellie snarled, her livid whisper a live grenade.

Clyde took the impact full on in the chest, and his stomach swooped as his whole body was wracked with self-loathing. For her part, Mellie rolled her eyes, scoffing angrily at her middle brother’s jealousy. It may have been born of his insecurity over his hand and whatever other scars he carried, but that was no reason to make Rey feel as if she were somehow in the wrong.

Panic danced in his eyes that began to dart all over the room, as if he were looking for some way to put his pieces and Rey’s back together. Mellie sighed, then jabbed a finger at him. Her tone was low, but took no prisoners.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Clyde. I am going to come back there, I may or may not kick your butt, and I am throwing you out of the bar.” His raised eyebrow only added to her ire, and she raised up on her barstool, delivering a poke to his chest.

“Don’t think I won’t ask Earl to come in here off the porch!” Mellie’s volume had risen in tandem with her, and the pair got some curious stares from some of the other patrons scattered around the bar.

“You are going to get yourself together, and then you’re going to take Rey out to dinner and a movie by way of apology,” Mellie finished, as if she were a judge passing sentence.

Suddenly, Clyde wouldn’t meet her eyes. He shuffled, staring at the floor.

“Melissa Jean Logan, has anyone ever told you that you are a bossy little thing?” His grumble might have had a tinge of amusement to it, but it wasn’t obvious and Mellie wasn’t interested in analysis. She was already halfway around the bar, ready to come in swinging.

“Not since this morning,” she quipped. “I am doing this for your own good, Clyde, and don’t you forget it!”

She emptied the tip jar, wadding up the bills, then grabbed his jacket from the peg next to the back room. Crowding him out from behind his own bar with her small frame, she shoved the money and clothing into his hands. Judging by the bated silence that descended, it must have been fairly entertaining to watch.

“Now get. out,” Mellie commanded, punctuating her words with gentle, but firm, pushes on Clyde’s nearest shoulder.

“All right, all right,” he surrendered, quickly putting his jacket on and shoving the bills into his pocket.

Just then, Rey came out of the bathroom, and nearly ran face first into a waiting Clyde.

“Hi.” His voice was quiet, almost shy.

“Hello, Clyde.” Rey’s head tilted to one side as she tried to figure out what was going on.

“You hungry, Rey?”

“Always.”

“Wanna get something to eat? Maybe catch a movie?”

It took a moment for Rey’s brain to process what her ears had heard, and she looked at Mellie, who suddenly found the race on the TV behind the bar extremely interesting. Clyde shifted nervously, wondering why she hadn’t answered.

“All right,” she breathed, and she put on a wobbly smile. She allowed Clyde to guide her out of Duck Tape, and into his car.

“I’m sorry, Rey,” Clyde said before he’d so much as started the engine. “I wasn’t looking at you like that, it’s just… Some of those fellas in there were looking at you like — well, you ARE pretty, but they were looking at you like you’d look at a steak and… I don’t like that.” He nearly winced at the impotence he felt in his own tone and choice of words.

“Oh?” Rey was perfectly still, even holding her breath. Was this the moment that he confessed? Even as she waited, hearing that Clyde found her pretty sent her heart and stomach leaping and swooping with joy. Clyde seemed to be waiting on tenterhooks for her to say something more, though. Instead, she sighed gently and leaned toward him, watching his rich brown eyes widen and hearing his breath catch. Touching her lips to his cheek, she gave him a quick kiss, reveling in the high that buzzed through her and delighting in having momentarily stunned the seemingly unshakable Clyde Logan. She waited another long moment, then gave him a cheeky smile, asking, “I believe I was promised dinner?”

He nodded dumbly, then started the car and shifted it into gear. There weren’t a great number of restaurants in town, and really, none of them were fancy in the slightest. Clyde weighed his options, decided that the Mexican and Chinese restaurants were the likely best bets outside of Charleston, and headed off in the direction of the Mexican restaurant.

“What’s good?” she asked, looking over the menu with a puzzled frown. Clyde shrugged.

“I like the fajitas, I guess, and the chips and salsa are nice. Army teaches you to eat just about anything though — anything is better than an MRE.”

Her nose wrinkled and her lips pursed. “An ‘MRE?’”

“It means ‘Meals Ready to Eat,’ and it tastes like wet cardboard.”

Rey smiled at Clyde’s frown of distaste, and decided not to mention her own experiences with emergency rations. “Well, whatever you like sounds fine. I’ll eat literally anything that isn’t poisoned.”

One of the busboys came over with a basket of chips and some salsas, and Rey dug in without preamble. This was quickly followed by a yelp when she found the hot salsa, and Clyde couldn’t suppress his chuckle as he scooped up his own chipful of the red-orange concoction.

“S’pose I should have warned you about that.”

“Oh yes, laugh it up, Clyde Logan,” she grumped as she fanned her mouth and reached for a water glass.

“How can you enjoy that?” she asked once the inferno was under control. Clyde did his best not to observe how the spice of the salsa had pinkened her cheeks attractively, and he certainly did not mean to notice that her lips were looking a little beestung. Instead, he looked down and shrugged again, reaching for another chip.

“Army.”

“That going to be your answer to everything?” Rey sighed, leaving the salsa off of her next chip.

“Only when it’s true,” he teased.

Rey rolled her eyes in response, but really, she felt like dancing for joy. She was here, having dinner with Clyde, alone, and he was joking with her. He thought her pretty.

For his part, Clyde couldn’t relax — he was too busy trying to redeem his screw-up — but he did allow himself to enjoy the experience of taking care of her, at least a little, by building her fajitas that she happily accepted.

“So how do you like your new furniture?” she asked between bites, savory bursts of flavor from the onion and peppers filling her mouth and nose, her grin one of smug satisfaction.

Clyde was mid-bite when she asked, and he waited until he’d finished his bite to answer. Rey couldn’t hold back her enthusiasm long enough to wait.

“On Wednesday, while you were at work, Mellie and I went and found some old crates, and I reclaimed the wood. I also helped Mellie put together the new furniture. I think it’s rather handsome myself, but I’m a bit biased, because I helped to pick it all out.” she replied, enthusiastically finishing off a second fajita without waiting for his reply.

It was Clyde’s turn to get a little pink in the cheeks. “Mellie…” he muttered, embarrassed.

“She’s a lot of fun to shop with. Besides, now my parents and my brothers know where you live — just in case!” she teased. Clyde barely held back his eyeroll.

Polishing off her third or fourth fajita, Rey sat back and gave a dramatic groan.

“I don’t think I can move, Clyde!”

“Want me to order you a wheelbarrow?” he quipped, a smirk gracing his full lips.

“Ugh,” she continued, hands on her stomach, “I think I’ll just take a nap right here, ok?”

“Well now, Rey, I don’t think they’ll allow you to do that, but if you can make it to the car, you can pass out there.”

‘Carry me?’ Romantic Rey supplied, batting her imaginary eyelashes like a proper coquette. It was, however, a bit too forward for the real Rey, who giggled her embarrassment as her cheeks went fuchsia. Clyde raised an eyebrow, but otherwise held his peace. The look elicited a heart-eyed squeal from Romantic Rey, and Rey bit her lip to keep that squeal from escaping.

Rey was giggling, blushing furiously, and biting her lip, her eyes flickering between his face and the edge of the table. While Clyde Logan was not one to presume, there are only so many ways to interpret that kind of body language — and his imagination was threatening to run wild with several of them at once.

Rey looked up again to see Clyde’s eyes had darkened a bit, his pupils widening, and felt a thrill of electricity that sparked low in her belly. Was this actually happening?

Clyde swallowed and stood, reaching for his wallet. “You ready, or do you need a minute?”

“No, we can go,” she replied, scooting out of the booth and standing.

As soon as he’d started the car, Clyde flipped on the radio, the silence a bit too loud and heavy.

“Please take my hand…” begged the singer, then a driving guitar and drum beat took over, leading up to a surprisingly enthusiastic organ solo. A minute later, the song was replaced by a voice.

“That was the original radio cut of Iron Butterfly’s ‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida,’ a full fourteen minutes shorter than the album track. Trust me, kids,” the DJ schmoozed, “if you ever hear the full version on the radio, your DJ is nowhere near the controls — probably needed a bathroom break, a smoke, and a sandwich… and that track will bring him back with at least two minutes to spare!” He chuckled to himself.

“This is To the Maxx Rebo with Radio WXWV, West Virginia’s home for classic rock! It’s Saturday, 8:05 PM, and we’re just kicking off No-Knock Rock — I’ll be with you until the midnight hour, spinning some of the best tunes to get your trailer rockin’, so lock your doors before your neighbors come knocking! Coming up next, a little down-home country lovin’ with the Eagles and ‘Seven Bridges Road!’”

“There are stars in the southern sky… southward as you go… there is moonlight and moss in the trees… down the Seven Bridges Road…”

Rey paused, listening to the guitar play, and then turned to look out her window, craning her neck to peer upwards, her fingers tapping out a rhythm on her thigh.

“This might sound mad,” she began after a few moments, “but that song got me to thinking… I feel like looking at the stars. They’re so clear, out here… no light pollution at all.” She turned to face Clyde.

“Do you like stargazing?”

“I do,” he murmured, hesitating gently. “I could get some blankets from the trailer, if you want? There’s a few nice spots, some open fields just outside of town, or even the high school football field, if there’s no game.”

She was all shining eyes and excitement. “Could we?”

Clyde’s heart stuttered in his chest, and his voice broke.

“I’d like that.”

“Better than a movie, anyway,” Rey smiled, then a jarring opening chord grabbed her attention. Rey sat bolt upright and reached for the window roller, cranking it down despite the chill of the evening. She snapped and swayed, to the music, her eyes alternately closed and gazing at him as the wind whipped her hair. She smiled and sang, her sweet voice clear, if soft, and Clyde felt himself fall impossibly further. She was so… alive, beautiful and ready to find joy in a life that had been so unkind to her.

As the song came to an end and a commercial break began, Rey cleared her throat and rolled up the window nearly as quickly as she had rolled it down, suppressing a shiver at the cold, clear night. She tucked her now-wild hair behind her ear and blushed sweetly.

“One of the, uh… places that I used to hang out when Unkar was unbearable was an old record store. Rystall, the woman who worked the shop at night, she was really cool. She was almost in her fifties, but she still had this crazy pink mohawk, and she had a lot of piercings. I think she used to be in a punk band,” Rey whispered conspiratorially. “She introduced me to all the old stuff, you know, The Kinks, Cream, Zeppelin… that song always made me feel like driving down the shore, maybe a cliffside highway, in a convertible…”

The DJ’s voice broke in, and Rey fell silent.

“Taking us into that last break was ‘I Feel Free’… definitely nothing suggestive about naming your band Cream, right? This next song was listed second on VH1’s top ten sultriest videos of all time, and later on tonight, we’ll have the number one song for you, but right now is Bruce Springsteen with ‘I’m on Fire.’”

The driving bass line and drumbeat seemed to push the accelerator down… or maybe that was just Clyde’s reaction to The Boss looking deeply into his soul and spilling his guts with a handful of words. He could just drive forever, with her beside him… drive to a place where none of the bad things had happened and none of it really mattered. She was becoming the exception to every rule, and it was as terrifying as it was thrilling.

There was a very important — and very tricky — question, though: how was he going to explain the job to her? It was most certainly bound to come up, in one way or another, what with the law investigating it… and even if it never did, the dishonesty of the situation was eating at him. He’d already betrayed her trust once, when she asked about it directly, and yet she’d offered her trust a second time, freely, saying that she believed he’d tell her in his own time. How could he, though? But if he didn’t, how could she ever trust him? What if they did come knocking on his door one day? She’d find out about it then, and it would be a disaster.

The longer he waited, the more emotionally invested he became, and the harder it was going to be to finally confess… and that didn’t even take into account her feelings. The specter of her heartbreak when she learned of his deception chilled him to the the bone. She saw his shiver and gave him an odd little smile, turning up the heat a bit, but said nothing. As the silence stretched, it began to loom, the shadows of things unsaid growing darker and more uncomfortable. He had to tell her, and he had to do it now. It was only going to get worse if he didn’t.

Rey looked over at him, only to see his sweet face marred by a grim resolve that she instantly hoped she never saw again. He yanked the wheel sharply to the left, and she was surprised to find herself back in the parking lot for Duck Tape.

“Clyde?” Her voice was cautious, hesitant.

He stared straight ahead, his knuckles turning white against the wheel. “I need to tell you somethin’, Rey, and…” he faltered, not able to bring himself to voice the idea that he brought her here to a public place so she could run, if she needed to. “Promise me that you’ll let me say my piece, all the way to the end. Then…” He looked down at his lap. “Then… you’ll know what to do.”

Rey blinked rapidly, unnerved by his ability to make emotional hairpin turns, and simply nodded, though Clyde didn’t miss that her fingers pulled up on the door lock. Good, he thought.

“It wasn’t an accident. I drove through the storefront on purpose.”

He watched Rey pull her lips between her teeth, clearly struggling to keep her promised silence.

“I did it for my brother, because he asked me to go to prison.” He pressed on, seeing her confusion turn to disbelief. “My brother was… he was working for a mining and building company, but they let him go from his job ‘cause they decided Jimmy’s old football injuries were suddenly considered a liability on the insurance. Then his ex-wife told him she was moving out of state and taking their daughter with her. Jimmy needed a lawyer, and for that he needed money, and he decided to get back at the company for firin’ him by taking their money. I went to prison so… so we could figure out how to blow the vault from a safecracker who’d done that kind of safe before.”

Rey’s eyes were as big as saucers, and her every muscle was coiled to spring.

“For reasons I do not know, after we did the job, he…” Clyde sighed, completely deflating. “Jimmy gave the money back anonymously and skipped town to move down to Virginia with his daughter.”

Now it was Rey’s face that changed, her features taking on a feral snarl; Clyde could swear her teeth and nails had grown a full inch.

“I’ll never forgive the bastard,” she growled darkly, unable to keep her peace any longer. “Using you and leaving you to rot in prison after…! How dare he?!”

He ignored the insult to his brother, who, all things considered, could be called something much worse.

“Rey, you have to know that there’s a chance they’ll figure it out, and if they come for me—”

“Don’t talk like that!” Her eyes were fiery, desperate, but her tone became more resolved. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m good at waiting.”

“Uh uh, Rey. You’ve got so much ahead of you, and better things to do than throw your life away waiting for a broken man dumb enough to do what I did.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I ought to slap your face, Clyde Logan.”

Instead, she vaulted into his lap and grabbed him by his jacket lapels, then smashed her lips against his, swallowing his whimper of surprise.

The kiss broke before Clyde’s brain could fully register what had happened.

“You don’t get to talk about yourself to me that way, and you certainly don’t get to tell me what to do!” she declared. The line in the sand had been drawn, and Clyde nodded stupidly, too overwhelmed to argue. Instead, they teetered for a moment on the precipice as a guitar warbled and vibrated, their eyes dancing across one another’s features, taking in the moment that everything had changed.

They plunged with the guitar, something within Clyde snapping as he pulled her to him, his hand firm against the small of her back, and his mouth pillaging hers. She responded with enthusiasm, releasing his jacket to weave her fingers through his hair. They were almost poetically clumsy, noses bumping and wet, hungry, breathless mouths everywhere.

“Rey,” he whispered, panting. She pulled back to look at him, her lips red and swollen, and her eyes glazed over. Her chest was heaving.

“Clyde…” Then she began to laugh. “Look at us, we’ve fogged the windows!” She leaned in to steal another kiss, groaning as she did so.

“Rey…” he grunted, pressing into the small of her back again, all but grinding her into his lap. “There are a lot of things I want to do right now, and they’re all things I’d rather not do in the parking lot of my own bar.”

She nodded and pulled away, and it took everything in Clyde not to snatch her back.

“How fast can you get me someplace you _do_ want to do them?”

He swallowed.

“You sure?”

_“Now,_ Clyde Logan.” There was the click of a seatbelt.

“Yes, ma’am.” He peeled out of the parking lot to the drumbeat of Def Leppard, gravel spraying behind him as the singer gave him the green light to go. Taking the curves at a speed that was, frankly speaking, completely irresponsible, he nearly lost control when he felt her fingers creeping up his right thigh.

“Rey, baby, you’re gonna put us in a ditch if you do that,” he growled.

Romantic Rey apparently had quite the naughty streak when her confidence was up, and the rush of everything around her made her far more fearless and daring than Rey would have dreamed possible.

“Oh,” she said casually, almost innocently, kicking off her boots as she planted her feet on the dashboard. She moved her fingers from his thigh to her own, creeping up almost painfully slowly, hiking her dress with it.

She heard his breathing hitch as he uttered a soundless word, and she tilted her head back, baring her neck.

He beat his previous record by a full two minutes.


	11. What Happened at Clyde's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey, Clyde, and a radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: This part of Chapter 10 has been posted separately because it contains explicit sexual content. If you are not of legal age/legal standing to consume explicit sexual content, or prefer not to, please do not proceed. This chapter can be skipped with minimal adverse effects; important points appear in the end notes. By reading the following, you affirm that you understand the warning and are of legal age/standing to read sexually explicit content.
> 
> Chapter-specific CW: kissing, nudity, vaginal fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, frottage

How he could be patient enough to hang up his coat and then offer to take her jacket, she would never understand. This courtesy was followed by a hiss of static from the sound system in his living room that preceded the continuation of music; not that she was paying a great deal of attention to the song on the radio, but Rey was fairly sure she’d never heard it anyway. Every nerve in her body was on fire, rejoicing and burning and dying. This was truly happening — she was there, he was there, he wanted to do things to her. The present pause required in order to get into the house and to, for want of a less cliche term, ‘set the mood,’ might have resulted in an awkward hiatus, but her dream — the promise of her heart’s garden was bearing fruit, and Rey intended to harvest and savor it, however late, awkward be damned.

As for Clyde’s patience, it wasn’t so much that he had a will of iron as that his mama had, and she had raised him to be a gentleman until it was automatic — a reflex that was only strengthened in the face of romantic interest. At long last, perhaps an entire minute after they’d arrived, he offered her a seat on the couch and sat beside her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, then kissing her lips. She returned the kiss with interest, despite the growing rawness of her lips. Before long, she climbed back into his lap, straddling him, and was gratified to feel his hand on her hip, stroking with his thumb, but it wasn’t enough, and Rey decided to take what was probably the second most direct route to what she did want.

“So which of the several things that you wanted to do to me do you intend to do first?” she purred.

His plump lips and his jaw moved and flexed as he swallowed, and Rey trailed lush kisses down his face. His lashes fluttered closed as his head lolled back, then his eyes snapped open as she stopped.

“Hmm?” she asked knowingly.

He groaned, hardly able to think, and certainly not coherently. Instead, he turned his face to meet hers and kissed her again, devouring her lips as his hand wandered up her hip and waist, eventually enclosing her breast. Rey moaned into his mouth as his gigantic palm closed over the mound, kneading and squeezing.

“I like that,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. “Do it some more.”

It was more difficult than it looked, and Clyde felt off-balance and edging toward panic; he wanted to wrap his other arm around Rey. He wanted another hand to touch her with. He didn’t have the second, and he shied away from the first, unsure of how she’d take it. It was not an exaggeration to say that his experience before Iraq had been limited — most of the girls had wanted Jimmy, though a few had taken Clyde as a sort of consolation — and since Iraq… well, there hadn’t been anyone since, and the physical therapy that came along with recovery had not included a single pointer on how to use — or not use — an amputated limb in this kind of situation.

Frustrated but unwilling to stop and fearing to bring it up, lest she change her mind, he instead moved his hand around to her upper back, holding her where he wanted her while he kissed the tops of her breasts. She moaned appreciatively, but soon after, her sharp intake of breath caused Clyde to freeze.

Rey frowned, realizing that Clyde wasn’t touching her with his left arm — in fact, he wasn’t using the arm at all. Granted, the robotic prosthesis might not have been the most romantic thing, but who cared? His missing hand was part of who he was, part of what made Clyde Clyde, and Rey loved all of Clyde, the Darcy bits and the broken bits and the country bits and the military bits and all the bits in between. Despite all of the pleasure, Rey felt a pang of deep sadness that Clyde seemed to believe his injured arm was unworthy of touch. Whatever the reason, whether it was insecurity of her reaction or disgust or shame on his part, Rey was determined to show him the error of his ways.

Very slowly, deliberately, she reached over and stroked down the shoulder and bicep. Clyde shivered, then held his breath as she went down further, toward the elbow. When she bent to the side and kissed just above the line of the prosthesis, he tensed.

“Sorry, should I not—?” she asked, praying that she hadn’t caused him embarrassment, but determined to stand her ground.

After a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged, a poor attempt to feign nonchalance.

“I just… most people pretend they don’t notice. Some people stare, a few even comment. I’m not…” With a hard sigh, he turned his face away. “I’m incomplete, Rey. Part of me is missing and I can’t get it back.”

“Shhh…” she said, grabbing his jaw and turning his face back to hers. “I don’t see that at all.” Then she indicated the buttons of his shirt.

“May I?”

He hesitated, but nodded, and she returned to kissing his mouth as she undid them, and he awkwardly rested his hand on her hip. She could feel that he was more tentative than before, but hopefully after what she was about to do, he would understand.

“Can you take it off, or shall I?”

He peeled his button-down off in response, carefully leaving his prosthesis in place. That barrier out of the way, she resumed her attentions to his injured arm, kissing a line down the sleeve of his cotton undershirt, down his bicep toward his elbow. He stiffened again, and her eyes flicked up to his.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” She paused, hoping that he would allow her to continue. When he said nothing, she stroked her fingers up the back of his arm while kissing as low as she could on the front. His grunt of surprise when she licked up from the lowest point on the back of his forearm was followed by a gasp and shiver as she blew on it gently, causing all of the hairs to stand up on end. She continued to gently touch and kiss all of the skin that she could reach, until she paused at last, her fingers resting on the edge of the prosthesis.

“Is it ok if I… if I take this off?” When he didn’t answer right away, she blurted out, “It’s ok if you say no, if you’re not comfortable, I can leave it alone, it’s just…”

“Just what, Rey?” His voice quavered, as if he were on the verge of tears, and he felt as though he might shatter at any moment.

She gazed at him with something that looked an awful lot like regret, and sighed.

“I wish I had been there, back then.”

“You— what?” He shook his head. “No you don’t.”

Her eyes blazed. “I do! I should have been there for you. I know that your family took good care of you, but I wasn’t there. If I could have been with you back then… I would never have let you feel like your hand made you less of a man.”

He shook his head again, this time more vehemently.

“‘Back then?’ Rey, darlin’, ‘back then,’ you were still in high school. ‘Back then,’ this—” he indicated the two of them— “never occurred to me. I didn’t feel…” He struggled to choose his words carefully. “I cared about you, but not…” He fixed her with a look that set her soul on fire. “What happened or didn’t happen is over and done with. Right now’s all we got, Rey.”

Rey, for her part, didn’t know whether to be delighted or offended. She’d known her own mind and heart and always had. Still, she’d seen enough of the seedier side of life to know that not all men were so principled, so gentleman-like. Most, in her experience, were not. Ultimately, though, he was right — it was in the past, and she wasn’t going to waste another moment of the present on might-have-beens.

Clyde gazed at Rey, taking in her sparkling eyes, her rosy lips, the glow of her face as he waited out the pause.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured adoringly.

“So are you,” she replied, her eyes bright and earnest. _“All_ of you.” Her fingertips traced the skin above the prosthesis.

The voice of the DJ cut in. “This is To the Maxx Rebo with No-Knock Rock! We just finished doing ‘The Stroke’ with Billy Squier — takes me back to my rowing crew days in high school, if you know what I mean!” He chuckled. “Before that was INXS with ‘I Need You Tonight,’ Foreigner, with ‘Waiting For a Girl Like You,’ and kicking off the block was Gary Wright’s ‘Dreamweaver.’ Fun fact, the next song coming up after the break was the first to have the video _banned_ from MTV for nudity, but I’ve got to tell you, folks, everyone in that video is wearing clothes… so you know the song was just that hot! I’ve also got some Chris Isaak on the way with the song whose video was voted ‘Sultriest of All Time.’ Also got some Zepp, Beatles, and Heart on the way on WXWV, where West Virginia comes to rock! More after a word from our sexy sponsors.”

Rey shook her head, a mixture of fondness and fierceness in her eyes, and stroked both his cheeks, kissing his forehead, his nose, and his lips before gently taking his chin in her fingers.

“You don’t have to wear it for me or take it off for me… I just wanted you to know that you could. I’m not afraid — _and I know I’m not settling._ You’re…”

Clyde peered, impatient and curious, as she took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they were suspiciously shiny.

“I _love_ you, Clyde Logan. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”

“I…” he croaked, then shut his mouth with a click. Astonishment, gratitude, and discomfort warred within him. After all, he’d already told Rey that he’d never even thought of her in a romantic way before she’d come back into his life. Still, she had offered him trust that he surely did not deserve, and now she was taking a risk, bearing her soul to him like that. The least he could do is repay her in kind.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, then reached over, releasing the catch that held his prosthesis in place and sliding it off. Rey traced her fingers up and down the newly-exposed skin as she leaned in, kissing his lips with a hunger that belied the notion that she’d eaten an hour ago, and let Freddie do the talking about not talking.

She let her hands roam his chest and arms, sometimes weaving his fingers into his hair, and he cradled the back of her head, or wrapped his arm around her waist and supported her shoulders with his hand, sometimes dipping his head to mouth at her breasts or kiss her neck.

Rey was surprisingly loud about her appreciation of his explorations. Then… _then_ she ground against his lap, and Clyde made a strangled _‘hgk’_ kind of sound, then rested his forehead against her collarbone, panting, as a slinky, yearning guitar played over the radio.

_The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you…_  
_Strange what desire will make foolish people do…_

Naturally, Rey took his reaction as encouragement, and did it a second time.

_I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you…_  
_And I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you…_

_“Ffnnh,_ baby, do you know what you’re doing to me?” he pleaded, hanging on to his sanity by a thread.

“Pretty good idea,” she breathed.

_No I don’t wanna fall in love… (This world is only gonna break your heart)_  
_No I don’t wanna fall in love… (This world is only gonna break your heart)_  
_With you… with you… (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

“Then you know it isn’t, not yet,” he managed to sputter, his mind and his body driving in opposite directions.

She pouted, and he felt his heart twist.

_What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way…_

“I want to feel you! Please, Clyde!” She was begging shamelessly, and he groaned. Of course part of him wanted exactly that — a large part of him, in all honesty — but he wanted to please and pleasure her first.

_What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you…_

This was sacred ground, and he might never have another opportunity. He slid his hand up her thigh, then paused, looking her in the eye.

_What a wicked thing to say — you ‘never felt this way’!_

Rey leaned forward and kissed him again, putting her hand on his and guiding him up toward her center. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he broke the kiss to stare at her in hungry disbelief.

_What a wicked thing to do — to make me dream of you!_

“You’re not…” he trailed off, speechless at feeling nothing covering her wet folds.

_And I don’t wanna fall in love! (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

She blushed a little, still capable of embarrassment, but shrugged it off with a smirk. He groaned, and allowed himself to gingerly stroke her.

_No, I don’t wanna fall in love! (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_With you…_

“Mmmm — oh!” she gasped, her hips moving of their own accord. With a twist of her waist, she began to reach behind her back, and before Clyde could gather his thoughts enough to ask what she was doing (or offer to help), a fully naked Rey was perched on his lap, her dress in a heap on the floor.

Apparently, she hadn’t been wearing a bra either.

_The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you…_  
_Strange what desire will make foolish people do…_

“Oh…” he breathed, awestruck, as she put her arms around his neck, resting them on the tops of his shoulders. Gently, slowly, with the barest hesitation, he began to stroke her again, and he leaned down, taking a nipple into his mouth.

_I never dreamed that I’d love somebody like you_  
_I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you_

Rey keened with pleasure, and he felt drunk, overwhelmed with wanting. His own body was screaming with need, and he felt his hips cant, instinct driving him.

_No I don’t wanna fall in love… (This world is only gonna break your heart)_  
_No I don’t wanna fall in love… (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

His fingers grew bolder in their movements, rubbing against her heated lips and the swollen nub at the top of her cleft, and Rey groaned, her head lolling back.

_With you… (This world is only gonna break your heart)_  
_With you… (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

The clench of her inside walls against an exploratory finger was a revelation, and Clyde was a willing disciple, working to coax secrets from his priestess. With his free arm, he held her in place, his lips on hers a prayer, her body his cathedral.

_Nobody loves no one…_

Slowly, and with no small protest from Rey, Clyde withdrew his fingers, moving his hand to cradle her bottom as he stood, lifting her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her into his bedroom. Gently, as if she were a holy icon, he lowered her to sit on the side of the bed and knelt before her, a supplicant to her grace.

At the first kiss of her inner thigh, she gasped, and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” she said, and pointed at his shirt. “Not fair. Take it off.”

He obeyed his priestess joyfully, and her wide-eyed appreciation was more than a little gratifying.

“Oh, shit…” she breathed, tracing a finger along one of his pectorals.

He leaned forward, kissing up the inside of her thigh again, moving toward her center, and she reclined on her forearms, shaking her hair back and watching his dark head do delightful things that made her insides swoop and soar.

At the reintroduction of one, and then two, of his fingers, she was sure that she had ceased to exist as a person, and was little more than a collection of nerve endings that had been set alight.

“Fuck, oh fuck! Clyde!” Her words were almost painful as his neglected erection throbbed and twitched, the profanity coming out of her mouth unreasonably hot. He moaned into her, the vibrations shocking her as she tumbled over the edge of bliss. Once she was done trembling, her legs squeezing him in a vise-like grip, he wiped his mouth on the corner of the sheet, then kissed her thighs, running his hands along her skin gently.

“Get the rest of that off, right now, and get up here,” she purred.

“Bossy,” he smirked, but he was too drunk on her to think twice about it. It wasn’t until he caught her shocked, open-mouthed stare that he froze, suddenly self-conscious.

“Um,” she began, trying to gesture at his groin without actually pointing at it. “How? How in the hell is _that_ going to fit?!”

Clyde, when all was said and done, was only a man, and precious few men have been born who wouldn’t preen over their lover’s appreciation for their size. Because he was Clyde, however, he downplayed his pride with a modest shrug.

“Let’s find out.”

Moving over Rey, he kissed a diagonal across her stomach and breasts, stopping to gently suck on each of her nipples, before finally lying down beside her on his back. She rolled toward him, feeling the length of his naked skin against her own, and indulged in a few exultant kisses before raising up to straddle his waist with her thighs. Clyde bit his lower lip, his dark, worshipful eyes flicking over her nude form, and he reached up, squeezing one of her pert, round breasts in his hand. Her eyes slid shut and she leaned toward his left, reaching over to stroke his other arm, bringing it around to rest on her hip.

Lifting her hips, she lined herself up over his shaft and slowly began to sink down, both of them panting with anticipation and the effort of keeping things slow and easy.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, overwhelmed with an unfamiliar sensation that was both pleasure and pain, and she stopped, reversing course. His eyes were almost completely black, a thin band of whiskey caramel on the outside.

“What can I do?”

She shook her head.

“It might just… take a minute,” she hedged, apology written all over her face.

Clyde shook his head, and reached up to stroke her cheek, unable to stand seeing her upset or distressed, especially over something that ought to feel so good.

“It’s okay, baby. Come here and we’ll take a minute.”

Gently, he shifted her over to rest on his right thigh, then with one arm, he pulled her forward into a lingering kiss. Reaching up with his hand, he stroked down her back and her rump. As the kiss continued, he slipped his thumb down and around, and began to massage her again, a move that was rewarded with a flex of her hips, a trail of slick against his thigh.

Rey felt the heat of his body and the slight pull of his skin against her slit, and it made for delicious friction. Almost instantly, she was ascendant once more, her nipples peaking and her body awash in pleasure, a sensation she was eager to share with him. Reaching down, she grasped his swollen, rigid cock, and pulled, wringing a loud moan from him at the unexpected contact — and interrupting his finger play as his hand flew to her wrist.

“Not yet, baby, please,” he begged. “I promise I’ll let you do whatever you want, just not yet.”

She whined but withdrew her hand, her hips still thrusting atop his broad, hard thigh, and his fingers returned to tease more ecstasy from her.

“That’s it, Rey,” he rumbled, needing her more with every passing moment. Watching her ride him was the sweetest torture he’d ever endured, and he couldn’t get enough, his own hips trying to buck and drive him toward her. “Ride, darlin’.”

She let out a stuttered, high-pitched wail, his voice, his words sending her careening over the edge of bliss, the throb of her climax pounding a palpable rhythm against him. Panting, her hair wild and her eyes wilder, she crawled up his chest, drunk on whiskey caramel and honeyed baritone, and conquered him with a single, swift stroke.

Clyde let out a prolonged groan that climbed and warbled into a near-scream as she resumed her ride without breaking her pace. When he reached for her, she grabbed his wrist and leaned forward, pinning it to the bed.

“My turn,” she said, her teeth flashing, her tone dark chocolate. “You said I could do whatever I want.”

“What—_hng!_—is it you—_uhn!_—want, baby? Trying—” he panted as she altered her stride, bouncing up and down a little more. His eyes rolled back into his head, the feeling of sliding in and out of her, of her hips grinding against his, almost too much. This wasn’t going to last. He lifted his arm again, and she allowed it, guiding his hand to rest on her hip, where it fell all too easily into the rhythm of the pace she’d set.

The look she gave him was almost feral, but the heat in her eyes was loving, longing.

“I want you to come,” she commanded, and his own body stuttered.

“God, I love your filthy mouth,” he growled. His fingers grabbed her hip, his grip almost iron, and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, taking over the pace as he pulled and she pushed. Her beautiful breasts jiggled hypnotically at his every thrust as he sank in, burying him deep inside of her.

“Come for me, Clyde,” she repeated, softer, more pleading. “I’m so close again… come with me.”

His eyes flicked down, and the sight of her beautiful body swallowing every inch of his cock as she rode was more than he could handle. He could no longer contain the electrical storm at the base of his spine, and tendrils of shock zipped through him, followed by warm carelessness that coursed through his veins. Rey’s arched spine and groan told him that she had found her own ecstasy; knowing that she’d found it wrapped around him was almost more than he could bear.

Her body mourned the loss of him inside of her, but Rey crawled up, snuggling into Clyde’s arm and tucking herself into his side.

“Thank you,” she purred, nuzzling his chest.

He looked down at her, bemused.

“I think I’m the one who’s supposed to say that,” he drawled.

“You can, if you want—” Her last words were punctuated by a yawn, and she stretched, then burrowed into his side again.

“Well, thank you, baby,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

He collapsed back on the pillows, utterly spent. Given what had just happened, part of Clyde expected to feel panic, or worse, guilt. Instead, he felt loved, peaceful. Leaning and twisting toward the foot of the bed, Clyde pulled up the covers and watched Rey until a deep, dreamless sleep took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW-related important details:  
Rey is determined to make Clyde understand that she is in no way put off by his missing hand, and so includes touching and kissing the area specifically, as well as awkwardly asking Clyde about whether he wanted to wear his prosthesis during sexy times or not.  
Rey confesses to Clyde that she loves him.  
The two of them have sex. While protection is neither used nor discussed, there's no need to be concerned or excited about any potential consequences; I'm waving my magic author wand and saying that it's not going to be an issue in this fic.


	12. Almost Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe meets Clyde. Rey's time in West Virginia comes to an abrupt end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: heart attack (not fatal), hospital
> 
> More thanks than usual are due to my delightful beta, Flypaper_Brain, not leastwise because this chapter is 6.6K words! She's the best fic-midwife I could want.

A pounding on the trailer door had both Clyde and Rey instantly awake and lurching upright; Rey looked at Clyde with a mixture of stubbornness and apprehension, and saw his mouth firming into the same grim line that she had hoped she would never see again.

“You stay here, Rey,” he cautioned, standing up and pulling on his boxers and jeans.

“Won’t occur!” she hissed, reaching for his t-shirt. It was almost big enough to be a dress on her… and he would think about what seeing her in his clothes did to him later, after the immediate danger was resolved.

Said danger announced itself with a second series of thumps on the door just as Clyde walked out of his bedroom, Rey right behind him.

“Virgil Clyde Logan, you open this door or I swear to God, I’ll drive right through it!”

Clyde’s shoulders, which had been tensed and ready for a fight, dropped, and he shook his head. Rey breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, then made a sharp turn toward the bathroom to attend to an unhappy bladder.

“Just a minute, Melissa Jean!”

“Don’t you DARE middle name _me,_ Clyde! You’re the one who’s not answering your phone!”

Clyde pulled the door open on the word ‘phone’ just in time to have a plastic package shoved at his chest as an irate Mellie pushed past him into the trailer.

“What’dja do, turn the ringer off?!” She stormed over to where the phone had been, only to realize there was no handset there. Her face tilted heavenward, and she gave a growl of aggravation.

“Jimmy Ray Logan, I swear, I’m gonna snatch you bald-headed!”

Clyde, who had been unwrapping the plastic bag, paused, trying to hide a smile; he hadn’t heard anyone say that since their Mamoo had passed away some twenty years or so prior. He paused again as one of those awful plastic packages fell into his hands, the silence broken by the sound of a toilet flushing and a sink turning on.

“You got me a cell phone?” he asked, as if she’d just handed him a lemon to suck on.

“Well, evidently, you need one!”

“It probably ain’t even gonna get reception out here, Mellie,” he countered, shaking his head.

“Well, then, you might consider joining the 21st century and getting some internet installed out here. It’s the only way Rey can talk to her family back home, and they get twitchy if she doesn’t check in with at least one of them every day.”

A squawk of protest came from the bathroom, and Mellie raised an eyebrow.

“Unless you’re in there getting ready to leave, I don’t think you got room to talk, Rey!” the youngest Logan quipped, though not unkindly.

The only sound that came in reply was the shower turning on, and Mellie gave her brother a conspiratorial look and a silent toss of the head. He followed her outside.

“Besides,” Mellie continued in a low, serious tone, “ain’t no telling whether the house phone’s bugged.”

Clyde stared down at the phone morosely, and nodded his head. They still weren’t out of this one; the news only talked about it once or twice a month, instead of five nights a week, but the reports said that the Feds were still trying to catch the would-be thieves. He hedged. 

“I’ll keep the phone, but I’m not having internet. Don’t want it, don’t need it.”

“You really gonna put Rey’s safety at risk like that?” Mellie asked, eyebrows raised.

Her brother looked like he’d been sucker punched, then bristled and rose to the occasion like a snarling wolf.

_ “What do you mean.” _

“That phone might or might not have reception — Rey’s phone most certainly does not. She can only use it on wi-fi. Now, even if she talks to her family from my house or the bar or wherever, what if she was here alone and something happened, Clyde?”

“That’s a low blow, Mel,” he growled.

“Not unreasonable, and besides, you can always have it turned off later, once—” Mellie stopped herself before uttering the words ‘she’s gone’— “later.”

He was still eyeing Mellie the same way he’d eye a coiled rattlesnake, and she sighed.

“I’m just glad you’re alright; when I couldn’t reach you, I…” Mellie faltered, in spite of her fierceness and capabilities. “I worried, Clyde.”

His protective impulses covered his little sister as much as they did Rey, and Clyde pulled Mellie into a hug, momentarily forgetting that he was shirtless and unwashed.

“I’m sorry, Mel.”

His little sister sputtered a bit, then playfully pushed her brother off.

“Go get a shower, Clyde.”

“Rey says I smell fine. Actually, she thinks I smell  _ good.” _

She knew that tone in his voice, the same one that he’d get when they’d been kids and the two brothers were trying to get a rise out of, or gross out, their baby sister. Unfortunately, Clyde had always been better at it than Jimmy, mostly because he actually paid attention to Mellie and knew what would turn her stomach. She threw her hands up in a defensive gesture, backing toward the door.

“Gross! I do  _ not _ want to know, Clyde!”

She didn’t miss the shit-eating grin on his face, and she would never admit that she was happy to see it — that after everything he’d been through, she’d actually worried that it was gone for good. Instead, she gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh, a hand on one hip.

“You know, you’d think after everything I’ve done for you and this family, I wouldn’t be treated like this.”

“Then you’d worry we didn’t love you,” Clyde shot back, and Mellie looked downright put-upon.

“Knucklehead,” she grumbled, opening the Nova’s trunk. “Anyway, I brought Rey’s suitcase so she wouldn’t have to do the walk of shame. Supper’s at my place, fried chicken, so, uh,  _ get yourself together, _ ok?”

One manicured finger pointed at his chest in stern warning.

“Set up that phone and text me so I have your number.”

He sighed, understanding he’d lost the argument, but grateful for how just how much his baby sister cared about him.

“Get out of here, Mel. We’ll see you at supper. Love you.”

“Love you,” she replied, watching him disappear into the trailer.

His voice rang out.

“Rey? Mellie’s leaving!”

What Rey’s reply might have been, Mellie couldn’t hear, but he turned around to give her a wave, and she fixed her brother with a knowing look and a smugly satisfied grin of her own.

“Everything all right?”

Clyde turned from setting the suitcase on the floor to see Rey, damp curls over one shoulder, wrapped in a towel.

“Mmhmm. Better now,” he crooned, making it to her side in two strides. He captured her lips in a kiss, using his hand to pull her body flush against him as he swallowed her murmurs of enjoyment. Backing through the doorway of his room, he was gratified when she followed — and elated when she dropped her towel.

It took several tries for the two of them to get showered and dressed and stay that way, but eventually, they found the call of the kitchen louder than the call of the bedroom. By early afternoon, they sat down to a lunch of eggs, bacon, and toast.

“So… why did Mellie bring my suitcase?” Rey’s lips took on a sardonic grin. “Worn out my welcome already, have I?”

Clyde snorted.

“Nah, she thought you’d want to wear something other than your dress from last night.” He took a bite of bacon, then continued. “I have to say, though: I loved what you were wearing.”

Rey grinned and blushed.

“I’d like to think you were a little more into what I wasn’t wearing.”

Clyde did his best to look cool, but his ears betrayed him.

“That was nice too, yeah.”

As she sipped her coffee, Clyde took a moment to admire her. She was no less alluring in her blue jeans and Queen t-shirt than she had been in her grey dress, and he smiled to himself. Maybe he was a sucker and a hopeless romantic to be in so deep after a few weeks (and the best night that he could remember having), but he could almost believe that he was fairly in love with her, too.

Eventually, the pair meandered in the direction of Mellie’s house. Once they were there, Rey settled in on the porch for an extended conversation with her entire family, who had finished Sunday dinner and were sitting in the living room, having tea and a little cake. As excited as she was to talk to them, though, she was decidedly  _ distracted _ — a fact that did not escape anyone. After about fifteen minutes, Rey’s half-hearted nods, Finn’s agitation, Francis’ disapproval, and Esther’s maternal concern were beginning to nip at Poe.

“Earth to Rey!” Poe’s charming smile and crinkling eyes suggested that he found her scattered attention amusing.

“Hmm — wha?” Rey had the grace to blush. “Sorry, Poe.”

“What’s got you so… fascinated, huh?”

“Oh, er… the leaves. The colors are just really… colorful…” she finished feebly, turning redder than any maple leaf.

“Uh huh.” Poe smirked. “Well, I was saying that I’m on for 2 weeks, starting and ending with pond-hopping. You think that maybe I could catch up with you while I’m grounded?”

Rey grinned, partially out of embarrassment at having been so air-headed, partially out of being caught, and mostly out of enthusiasm to see family.

“Of course! I’d love to see you while you’re here! When and where do you land?”

The details were ironed out pretty quickly; Poe would be landing in New York, staying with his dad, then flying to Detroit, Atlanta, and finally Charleston. The next day it would be back to Atlanta, and then all over the country.

“But I think that I can definitely find some time for dinner with my favorite sister!”

Rey giggled in spite of herself.

“Only sister, you mean!” 

“Doesn’t change a thing,” he grinned.

She thought this over for a moment. “It would probably have to be breakfast or lunch, though; Clyde runs his bar from two or three in the afternoon until around midnight.”

“I think I can swing that,” he replied, pretending to consider her offer. All too quickly, though, his jovial mood turned more sober. “We’re glad you’re out there, living your best life, Sunshine, but when are you coming home? It’s pretty grim around here without you. I —hey!”

Poe massaged his ribs where he’d been elbowed by Finn.

“See what I mean?”

Rey smiled sadly. She didn’t want to think about leaving, but she’d been there for weeks, and it was beginning to gnaw on her just how much she  _ wasn’t _ thinking about her family. The Storms had been nothing short of life-saving, and she knew that she was grateful to them and she had grown from loving them as her best friend’s parents to loving them as her close kin. Was she being selfish? (Was that a bad thing?)

“No, Sunshine, you can’t start frowning too!” Poe whined. “Just know that I — that  _ we _ — all miss you and want you home.”

“Okay. We’ll talk about it in a few days, alright?” When Poe nodded, she added, “Pass me around, would you?”

Rey said her goodbyes to Francis, Esther, and Finn, who hung up the phone.

“See, guys?” Poe triumphed, turning to the Storms. “I told you so!”

“The hen is the wisest of God’s creatures,” opined Francis, “for she does not cackle until the egg is laid.”

“Hey, happy thoughts, Francis!” Poe protested. Esther nodded in agreement.

“Rey is an intelligent and crafty young woman. She will be fine.”

“With any luck, I’ll get to meet this Clyde Logan, and see him for myself.”

* * *

Rey looked pensive when she walked into the living room where Clyde and Mellie were sitting; he was drinking a beer, she, a glass of wine. Heading into the kitchen, she helped herself to one of the beers and joined them, sitting on the couch next to Clyde.

“Everything alright with your family, Rey?” Mellie asked, sitting forward. “You look like you got bad news.”

“Oh, no! No, just… I’m really enjoying my time here, but missing them too.”

Mellie’s eyes darted to Clyde, who chose to take a drink rather than meet his sister’s gaze.

“Although,” Rey continued, a growing smile and the light in her eyes dispelling the melancholy, “my brother-in-law Poe is starting two weeks on duty, and he wants to have dinner in Charleston this coming week.”

“On duty?” Clyde asked, intrigued. “What does he do?”

“He used to be in the Air Force, but now he’s retired and flies for one of the airlines.”

“The… United States Air Force?” Clyde sounded confused.

Rey nodded.

“He met Finn while he was on a layover in London, and he’s based out of Heathrow now.” She smiled, a hint of mischief infusing her expression. “He’s going to want to meet you, you know.”

Clyde’s brow furrowed.

“They know—”

“You didn’t seriously think I could somehow come all the way to America as a lark and keep who I’m staying with a secret from my entire family, did you?” Rey’s eyes sparkled with barely-suppressed laughter. “Finn’s always known how important you are to me, and… I don’t think he knows  _ how _ to keep a secret from Poe.” 

“That’s fair, I guess,” Clyde grumbled. Mellie simply rolled her eyes. Clyde was a fool if he thought he could ever keep a secret from Rey.

Now it was Clyde's turn to ask after his sister as she suddenly sputtered, choking on her Moscato. She waved him off, even as tears pooled in her eyes and gooseflesh raised all over her body. 

“Wrong pipe,” she lied, her throat and a question burning: how much did Rey know?

Between Mellie’s discomposure and Clyde’s inward retreat (whether because of the upcoming introduction or for some other reason, she could not say), Rey’s attempts at dinner conversation were all rather one-sided, and she eventually fell silent, shoveling food into her mouth as politely as possible both out of old stress habits and to avoid speaking. She was relieved and grateful when both of the Logan siblings made half-hearted excuses about work shortly after sundown, and Clyde herded Rey into the Pontiac.

“Mellie didn't seem to feel well, suddenly,” Rey frowned once they'd left. “I guess the wine really got to her?”

“Seems that way.” Clyde shrugged, still distant. “I'm sure she'd tell us if something else was up. She's never really hesitated to speak her mind.”

“You know her best,” Rey trailed off dubiously. Something was askew, but she couldn't put her finger on it. At length she sighed, and resolved to put it out of her mind. One of them would fill her in, one day. All she had to do was wait.

Besides, there were several more pleasurable—and increasingly urgent—things she would prefer to think about.

“Clyde?” 

“Yeah?”

“What time do you go in tomorrow?”

“‘Bout 2, I reckon.”

Rey hummed, a sensuous smirk spreading across her face even as she felt a raw heat unfurling inside of her, the lingering soreness heightening her awareness of every throb and clench.

“Plenty of time,” she purred.

Clyde raised an eyebrow, his sober train of thought derailing as something far dirtier hit the tracks at top speed, and he pushed the accelerator to match.

“Says you,” he rumbled, licking his lips. 

She shivered in anticipation, her eyes raking over him, ultimately landing on his beautiful lips and flaring nostrils, though occasionally straying southward to delight in the evidence of his growing interest.

In minutes, the Pontiac was pulling into the driveway. Clyde killed the engine and carefully unfolded himself from his seat; he may have been burning rubber to get here, but he was in no hurry to brain himself in a mad scramble out of the car.

Rey had no such considerations, hurling herself out her door as if the car were on fire.

His long strides reached the porch first, but before he could unlock the door, Rey was practically climbing him like a tree, her kisses almost desperate and demanding.

Last night, he certainly would have implored her to slow down. Tonight, however, he met her with an urgency of his own, using his massive body to press her against the door as his mouth worked its way down her neck to nip at the peaks of her breasts. 

“God damn, Rey,” he panted, white puffs rising in the night air as he leaned his forehead against hers in a futile bid for self-control. “How do you do this to me?”

She flexed her fingers against his shoulders and her hips against his waist, unwilling to rein in her impatience. 

“I don't know,” she breathed, grazing his earlobe with her teeth and feeling his knees wobble beneath her, “but I don't ever want to stop. Don't stop, Clyde,  _ please.” _

He let out a positively animal growl in response.

“I'm gonna get you on the other side of this wall,” he swore, “and then I'm gonna find out just how long you can hang on.”

The door crashed open, and they tumbled through, Rey kicking it shut behind them with a satisfied slam.

* * *

Monday was always a slow day at the bar, but going in at two gave Clyde plenty of time to take care of inventory. Today, though, Rey had opted to come with him, rather than being left alone at the trailer. He had to admit, it neatly solved the problem of her safety, but it also gave him an idea. 

The  _ tonk-snap! _ of the cue sending one ball careening into the rest let Clyde know exactly where Rey had wound up; he had given her ‘the grand tour,’ of course, since she hadn't had much time to look around on Saturday, but there weren't many options aside from ‘watch TV’ or ‘hang out on the porch.’ She'd be busy for at least the next fifteen minutes, so now would be the perfect time to get this over with, and then he could decompress while he checked his inventory. 

“Thank you for calling Frontier, my name is Jackie,” a woman's voice burbled, her aggressively saccharine manner immediately setting Clyde on edge. “It will be my pleasure to assist you in connecting your business to the internet today! What’s your name?”

“Clyde Logan,” he replied, grimacing. God, he hated these kinds of calls. 

Forty-five minutes later, Clyde hung up the phone, then jumped when Rey put her arms around him.

“What's wrong?” Rey asked, coming around to face him, then frowning. “You look like you've just been to war!”

He smoothed his palm over his face and sighed. 

“Feel like it, too. Cable guy's coming out tomorrow so I guess I'll need to be here early.”

Rey nodded, although she really didn't understand. 

“Anything I can do you help?”

He kissed her, a chaste peck on the lips.

“Nah, I got it. Want a drink?”

“Surprise me,” she grinned. 

The night was a quiet one, but it flew by in Rey's company, and Clyde had the bittersweet thought that he could do this for the rest of his life, as long as she was here with him. 

* * *

The morning dawned early, and Rey awoke practically vibrating with excitement to see her brother-in-law. For his part, Clyde was torn between being soft over her obvious love for her family and being grumpy because he was awake earlier than he liked. (That she was too wound up to snuggle the morning away was another black mark on the day, in his opinion.) 

“Poe!” Rey beamed, throwing her arms around her brother-in-law. Clyde was struck anew by how ready Rey was to love, to trust, and to be loved. She still struggled with her parents’ abandonment, yes, but she didn't let it build a fortress around her heart. That she didn't close herself off in the face of all the reasons why she could was such a breath of fresh air, Clyde thought to himself. She was so ready to love everyone, and he felt himself plunge a little deeper in love with her.

“Poe, this is Clyde Logan. Clyde, Poe Dameron.”

The two men shook hands and took one another's measure. 

“I assume Rey has told you every embarrassing story she knows about me,” Poe began, his grinning charm infectious. 

Clyde shook his head.

“Not unless you count being a Zoomie,” he replied, his deadpan inflection shocking a bark of laughter from the curly-headed man. 

“Rey, you got yourself a 100% all-beef ground pounder, over there!”

“With the hardware to prove it,” Clyde agreed, raising his prosthetic minutely. 

Rey was confused, and shook her head. 

“Americans,” she muttered. 

“In all fairness, Sunshine, neither of the Storm kids can resist 'em.”

“Shut up, Poe,” Rey grinned, rolling her eyes.

The crowd was light at the restaurant, one of the advantages of it being Thursday, and the trio found a seat quickly.

After impressing on the young, decidedly bubbly waiter that they needed copious amounts of coffee, along with waffles, french toast, eggs, and bacon (some more well done than the rest), Rey peppered Poe with questions. 

“So how is everyone at home?”

“Good! We’re all good. Finn’s nearly done with his project and has another lined up to start on Monday; Esther and Francis are all set to head to Fiji at the end of the month, and I’m here having brunch with you!”

Rey smiled, but fixed Poe with a stare.

“Poe, what you said to me on Sunday doesn't sound  _ fine. _ It sounded like Finn was edging toward a nervous breakdown.”

He winced, then tipped his head side-to-side. 

“Okay, you caught me there. I think he just dislikes having both of us an ocean away, which...honestly?”

Rey made a conciliatory gesture. 

“Okay, that's fair, I suppose.”

“So, Clyde, Rey told me you own a bar?”

As the conversion progressed, Clyde decided it was difficult not to like Poe—even if he was something of a cocky flyboy. He could certainly be charming; he had an ease of command that could have been off-putting, but didn't seem to think of himself as above anyone.

“Me?” Poe looked surprised to be asked about himself. “No one special, I'm just a kid from Miami and New York whose grandparents came here from Guatemala and Cuba. Parents were first-gen, Air Force. Went to the academy, did my service, side-stepped DADT as best I could, then kept flying once my term was up.”

As the last dregs of the coffee carafe were poured, the conversation turned to the check, and got a little heated.

“No way, guys! My invite, I buy. That simple.”

Clyde shook his head.

“My mama would come down from heaven and tan my hide if I took Rey out and didn't pay the check, to say nothing of being on someone else's dime when I could do it myself.”

Rey scowled.

“Excuse me,” she said, taking her purse and heading toward the restroom—only to double back and hunt down the waiter. Eyeing the tab, she handed him cash and asked him to drop the change at the table.

When she got back from the ladies, Poe was wearing an expression of fond exasperation, Clyde a look of resignation.

“Did you give him a tip, too, Sunshine?” Poe smiled.

“I should have enough change—”

Each man reached for his wallet, and it might have been a Mexican standoff, but instead Poe smiled.

“Halfsies?”

Clyde acquiesced, and the crisis was averted. Rey rolled her eyes.

“I’ll go bring the car around,” Clyde murmured. He stood, kissed Rey on the cheek and gave Poe a nod before walking out.

“Nice of him to give us a chance to talk,” Poe mused, smiling as he stood up and put on his jacket. “He's not really offended, is he?”

“About the bill? No.” She paused long enough to zip her jacket, and they walked out together. “Well, he likely wasn't kidding about his mother giving him a bollocking for not paying the bill like a gentleman. The people out here are old-fashioned, and that's how he and Mellie were raised. I take it you’re satisfied now that Clyde isn’t some kind of serial killer?” 

Her admonishment-disguised-as-a-joke elicited a snort and a fond shake of the head from Poe.

“Yeah. I’m happy for you, Rey. He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you deserve that.”

She closed the distance, putting her arms around Poe and receiving a warm, brotherly hug in return.

“Thank you,” she said, relief flowing through her soft words. “It hurt when it felt like everyone thought I was a fool.”

“Rey.” Poe waited until she raised her shimmering eyes to his. “I never thought you were a fool. With the life you had, you never had time to be naïve. I’m just glad that the reality lived up to your dreams.”

Rey smiled, the tightness in her chest releasing with her breath.

“I’ll just warn you now, your brother and I are both wedding criers.”

Rey stiffened, then burst into laughter loud enough to startle the few migrating ducks that had landed in the parking lot looking for crumbs. They were still locked in a goodbye hug when Clyde pulled up, got out, and opened Rey’s door.

Poe strode over, and stuck out his hand.

“Good to meet you, Clyde Logan.” Clyde shook it, and Poe grinned. “I’d give you the shovel talk, but she’s right here.”

Rey sputtered. 

_ “Poe!” _

“Sunshine, you gave  _ me _ the shovel talk for your brother, I get to return the favor!” His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and Rey gave him a light punch to the shoulder. He staggered as if it had been a mortal wound, and looked at Clyde beseechingly. “On second thought, maybe it shouldn’t be me you’re worried about!” 

Rey growled in mock irritation and got into the car, shutting the door behind her, but rolling down the window just in case. Poe leaned in.

“I’ll see you soon, Sunshine, okay?”

Rey sighed, then smiled. 

“Give Finn a hug for me.”

Poe saluted, then turned and gave Clyde a nod. Clyde returned it, then slid into his car.

* * *

When Finn’s number popped up on Rey’s mobile shortly after they pulled into Duck Tape, she answered with a smile, prepared to tell him all about brunch (and perhaps to gloat, just a little, at Clyde having Poe’s seal of approval). Instead, she took one look at Finn’s steely face and immediately went on high alert.

“BF?? What’s wrong?!”

“It’s Dad,” he stated matter-of-factly. “He’s had a heart attack.”

The world fell out from under Rey’s feet, and she collapsed onto a chair.

“No! Oh god, is he—?”

Finn shook his head.

“It was a mild heart attack, but he’ll be here a while. In his condition, the chance of a follow-up event is too great to send him home.” Finn paused, his composure slipping. “He’s… Dad is stubborn as an old goat, and it almost killed him. I’ve been pestering him for almost two weeks to go to the doctor,” he grumbled.

Rey felt as though she’d been slapped in the face.

“Two weeks?! Why didn’t I hear about any of it? Why didn’t  _ anyone _ tell me?!” she cried, suddenly feeling like a second-class family member. Guilt and anger welled up in her guts along with her french toast--a brunch whose memory was suddenly colored with bitterness. How could Poe be  _ right there _ and say nothing?!

“And what could you have done about it from there, Rey?” he snapped, his nostrils flaring.

“I could have come home, for a start!” she retorted, distantly registering the approach of Clyde’s footsteps, drawn by the sound of her outrage. “You know what kind of tickets I have! You know it took me a week of showing up at Heathrow to get out of London in the first place!”

She hung her head, miserable.

“Do you think I really care about Dad so little? Or Mum?” Her agitation was growing, blossoming into indignation. “Or  _ you, _ you great pillock?! You’ve no right to call Dad stubborn! You’re just as bad!”

Finn sputtered and cringed, and Rey’s anger flared--only to be quieted by a hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. She took a shaky breath.

“Where’s Mum?”

Finn handed off the phone, and Rey found herself faced with an Esther who managed to look disappointed, exhausted, and sad all at once.

“What has shouting at your brother done to help, Rey?”

Rey couldn’t bring herself to raise her voice to Esther; even had Francis not had a heart attack, Esther was simply not the kind of woman that to whom one raised their voice.

“Mum, what if he’d—” Rey choked on the word  _ died, _ unwilling to so much as breathe it for fear that it would come true. She tried to take another deep breath, but wound up only smothering a sob. “Someone should have— I’m not there!” she moaned miserably. “I’m not there.”

“No one knew that this would happen,  _ oyin. _ Finn may have had his suspicions, but he chose not to share them with anyone but his father.” Was that a hint of reproach? Rey sighed as her nerves flooded with relief, the vise around her lungs disappearing: Poe hadn’t known. 

“None of us can see the future, Rey. That is for God alone.”

Rey pursed her lips and nodded, dissatisfied but unwilling to badger Esther further. Clyde continued to rub slow, soothing circles into her back.

“I’ll be home as soon as possible,” she said at last. The circles continued, the pressure a little firmer.

Esther hummed.

“It will do us all good to see you.”

Rey’s eyes prickled with the beginnings of tears.

“I love you, Mum.”

“I love you too, my girl. I will see you soon, God willing.”

Rey nodded wordlessly, and Esther handed the phone back to Finn, who was holding himself together, however barely.

“Have you told Poe?”

Finn nodded. 

“I called him first. He said he’d make this flight, then come straight home.”

Rey exhaled and leaned back minutely into Clyde’s touch, letting herself be comforted.

“Alright. I’ll let you know when I get a flight out.”

A sudden flurry of noise and activity around Finn obscured what he said next, and the screen went dark. Rey turned and buried her face in Clyde’s chest, then burst into tears. 

Once she'd had her cry (and a frustrated growl or two that he would take to his grave with him), it took a few minutes to power everything down and tape a handwritten sign to the door: ‘Closed due to emergency.’ The ride back to the trailer was silent, pensive, and while Rey shoved her things into her duffle, Clyde called a surprised Mellie to deliver the news about Francis' condition, that he’d closed his bar for the night, and was taking Rey back to Charleston. 

“Oh, bless her heart,” Mellie murmured sadly. “I’m done at four; is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so,” Clyde sighed. “I just thought you two ought to say goodbye before she went.”

He handed over the phone, and Rey, in her distraction, managed a couple of words of thanks, promising Mellie to return.

“I’ll be back,” she vowed. “One day soon. Once all of this is settled.”

Within a half hour of Finn’s call, they were on the road back to Charleston.

As they entered the airport, Clyde carrying the duffle, Rey’s gait was almost jerky, her shoulders drooping, and in the tense silence, he felt like he could practically hear her heart ricocheting between her throat and her shoes. He knew well how it felt to be nervous, torn between wanting to stay and needing to go. He tugged her to a halt and pulled her to him, wrapping one arm around her and holding her sweet face in his gigantic paw.

“You’re fighting every step of the way, darlin’, and it’s tearing you up inside.” Deep pools of brown searched verdant hazel. “You gotta be good to yourself, now. Your mama and brother need you, and you need them.”

She cast a dubious look toward the security checkpoint, then looked back at Clyde with a mixture of sorrow and something akin to desperation.

“But I need you, too!” She sounded almost petulant, but it was understandable, forgivable. “Entire days spent at the airport are days I could have been with you, and once I leave, who knows when I’ll get to see you again?! And then… there’s no guarantee that I’ll even get to board a plane, and I won’t have you going back and forth for what could be days… you can't close the bar all week! And besides—”

Her tirade was cut short by a message on her mobile, and she looked down in surprise, realizing that in her haste, she’d forgotten to turn the wi-fi off. It was Poe.

_ Where are you? _

** _In the Charleston airport._ **

_ Where? _

** _In front of security?_ **

_ Don’t leave before I get there. _

Rey blinked, surprised, then sent him back an ‘okay’ sign. She turned back to Clyde, who leaned down until their foreheads were touching.

“Rey, I think I know you pretty well, don’t I?” He waited to feel her nod before continuing. “I think that if you weren’t there for your family when they needed you, you’d feel like you abandoned them, and you’d never forgive yourself.”

“Clyde,” she croaked, her eyes going wide as the truth wrung tears from her. “I…”

He swiped his thumb over her cheeks, then kissed her. He poured all of the things he didn’t know how to say into it: the depths of his love, the pain of separation, the worry for the ones she loved, his undeniable desire, his wish that it could all be different. He rested his forehead against hers, reaching for anything to say that wasn’t ‘goodbye.’

“At least now you know where to send your letters.”

She hiccuped a laugh.

“Is that your way of asking me to write you?”

He shrugged, but found he didn’t want to downplay or hide his feelings from her.

“Getting a letter from you always made things better.”

Happier tears welled in her eyes.

“Alright, yes, but don’t get rid of that phone, promise?”

He smiled.

“Anything you want, Rey.” His smile faded as Clyde was overcome with a different kind of anxiety than he’d ever known before; he was used to being the one going off overseas, not the one being left behind. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said softly.

“Me either, Clyde.” She gently grasped the back of his neck, then gave him another kiss, this one soft, lingering for a long moment. He put his arms around her, holding her tightly, then buried his face in her hair.

A gently cleared throat got their unwilling attention, and Rey turned in his arms to face Poe--who was wearing civilian clothing.

“Hi guys,” he said, his customary cheer in place, if a little subdued. He held out an envelope.

“Hi Poe.” Rey’s smile was tinged with emotional upheaval, but she took the envelope from him. “Should I open this?”

“Would probably be for the best,” he replied, and he shook his head. “I would say that I need to get back to my flight crew and get ready for departure, but they more or less mutinied and relieved me of duty.”

She opened the envelope to find a first-class ticket to London with her name on it, and was suddenly glad Clyde was holding her upright.

“Oh my god, Poe!” she gasped. “How—? I… how did you even pull this off? It must have cost a fortune!” Rey was a deep shade of pink, and finally she snapped her mouth shut and pulled Poe into what was quite possibly the world's most awkward three-way hug. She took a shaky breath. 

“Thank you.”

Poe chuckled, not in the least discomfited by his sudden proximity, bordering on intimate contact, with the mountain that was Clyde. 

“You’re welcome, Sunshine. Figured it would be better for both of us to sit together. But we need to get through security sooner rather than later. The sooner we get moving—”

“The sooner we can see Dad.” she nodded, her smile slipping away.

“Yeah.” He paused, then acknowledged her companion. “Clyde.”

He gave a nod that was returned.

“Poe.” 

Poe indicated the security checkpoint with a wave of his hand.

“Catch you on the other side, Sunshine?”

Rey nodded, the pull of her heart in opposing directions taking her breath away. Still, Clyde had been right: she'd never forgive herself if she stayed. 

“I don’t guess there’s any chance of being left behind at JFK now,” she joked weakly.

“Good,” he nodded, although watching her walk away was sure to feel like going to prison all over again. He hesitated, uncertain of whether what he was about to say was the right thing or the dumbest thing he could say. 

“Rey, I hope you don’t feel bad about leaving to take care of your dad. That’s what family does… well, what they  _ should _ do, anyway.”

She hugged him tighter, her fingers nearly claws, hooked into his shoulders, and despite the situation, Clyde involuntarily flashed back to a few days before, when that sensation had been far more pleasurable. 

He kissed her hair. 

“Darlin’, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here until we figure out how to see each other again.”

Rey looked up at him and nodded, sadness written in every feature and movement. Funny, how easy it had been to become used to her place in his life, to his presence in hers. Scary how easily it could all be ripped away. He held her hand until she was beyond his reach, then followed her with his eyes until she disappeared. 

* * *

When had West Virginia gotten so bleak? Acre after withered acre of drooping, denuded trees rolled past, their silhouettes harsh, jutting and angular against the damp, endless grey of early November.

Clyde had expected to feel sadness at their separation, but every mile he drove back toward the trailer filled him with a deep ache that felt like it would be the death of him. As the mile markers flew by, he could feel the heart-shaped hole in his chest collapse in a little more, as if it would reach the end of some invisible tether and turn inside out, taking his lungs with it and leaving him a gaping cavity where a man had been. Stubborn to the last, he pressed down on the accelerator, determined to get home where he could bleed out in privacy and relative comfort.

As if he would be so lucky.

Pulling into the driveway, he noticed a light on in the living room; odd, given Clyde’s habit, painstakingly instilled in him by their daddy, of turning off the light anytime he left a room, but — given that he’d just had to fight every possessive instinct in his body in order to take Rey to the airport, something like this could have easily slipped his mind. He slid his key into the lock, but there was no resistance when he turned it. A light on… and the door unlocked?

Clyde pulled out his keys and took a step back from the door, then pocketed his keys in favor of his phone. He had just hit the speed dial to reach Mellie when the door suddenly opened, and his phone clattered on the walk as he jolted to action. He dropped into a fighting stance, his fist clenched and ready to throw a punch, when he heard an unexpected, familiar voice.

“Whoa, Clyde,” Jimmy sputtered, taken aback. “Whacha say there, brother?”


	13. Whiskey & Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy's surprise visit goes over very poorly, and Rey and Poe return to London and the bosom of family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific CW: alcohol use.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _This chapter contains transcriptions and embellishments of scenes from the film_ Logan Lucky. _No infringement is intended._

A torrent of emotions cascaded over Clyde, and he stood, fixed to the spot so as not to be swept away. It had been well over ninety days since he’d seen or heard from his brother, and to have him turn up like this, unannounced and uninvited-- but no, family didn’t wait on an invitation. Of course, family didn’t turn their backs on one another and give each other the cold shoulder for months, or move out and steal all of the furniture. Clyde mentally shook himself, dazed by the onslaught and unsure how to feel, before a muffled squawk got his attention. He picked up the phone.

“Sorry, Mel, just saying hi to Jimmy. You wanna come o--” 

Clyde looked at the phone, the call timer blinking 1:04, and frowned.

“Hmph,” he shrugged. “Must have got cut off.”

Jimmy looked perplexed.

“Since when do you have a cell phone?” he asked, disbelief coloring every word.

“Well, since you moved out and took the cordless, I guess,” Clyde suggested, his typically stolid tone and manner snapping into place.

“Who would you even talk to?”

Jimmy Logan was as excitable as his little brother was phlegmatic, but this was a particularly graceless attempt, even by Jimmy’s standards, to shove Clyde back into the box of the anti-social recluse little brother he had always occupied. Clyde refused to be shoved, however, and instead pushed back.

“The same people you left behind without so much as a word. The people I care about. The people who helped me  _ out _ of your mess instead of putting me  _ into  _ it.”

Jimmy looked as though he’d been sucker punched.

“That’s not-- I didn’t--”

“Can we talk about this inside, please?” Clyde asked, annoyance sharpening his words.

Jimmy stepped aside automatically, and Clyde shut the door behind them.

“You want something to drink?”

“What are you even doing home?” Jimmy blurted. “It’s Thirsty Thursday.”

His separation from Rey chose that particular moment to crash on him, and Clyde clenched his jaw so hard that it popped. Rather than answer Jimmy, he reached above the fridge and got down a bottle of whiskey, pouring himself two fingers, neat. Then he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. It wasn’t the healthiest way of coping with her departure, but he couldn’t handle both this and Jimmy right now without a little help. A smile flickered across his features when he thought about the mess Jimmy’d’ve been in if she’d been here. She probably would have brained him with the cast iron skillet. Sweet, fierce Rey. God, he missed her. 

“What’s so funny?”

Clyde shrugged, then jerked his head toward the kitchen table. He sat down and sipped at his shot glass. A confused Jimmy followed, eyeing the table as if there was a coiled copperhead on it. 

“Did you think I’d be eating on the floor?” Clyde asked, a coating of sarcasm dripping from his genuine confusion at Jimmy’s behavior.

Jimmy snorted. 

“Nah, of course not, I just wouldn’t have figured you for the white wood table type.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Mellie do this for you, or something?”

The sound of tires flinging gravel drew both men’s attention.

“Or something,” Clyde answered noncommittally as he took another sip.

“That was fast,” Jimmy muttered under his breath.

To her credit, the Mellie that came through the trailer door bore no resemblance to the hurricane that had blown in on Sunday morning, her gravel-spitting arrival notwithstanding. She breezed by Jimmy with a curt 'hi,' and wrapped Clyde in a tight hug. 

“I figured you'd still be at the airport! What happened? Everything okay?” she murmured, her voice heavy with sympathy.

“Airport?” Jimmy puzzled. Clyde returned Mellie's hug, ignoring his older brother's question.

“Family took care of the ticket,” he replied, hoping Mellie would take his meaning; he wasn't ready to discuss Rey with Jimmy. 

“Ticket? What's going on? Clyde, what were you doing at the airport?” Jimmy's agitation was growing in tandem with his confusion, and being ignored wasn't helping. 

“Friend of Clyde's from the war came out and stayed a while,” Mellie said dismissively, and Jimmy huffed. 

“Feeling like a stranger in my own home,” he groused. 

Mellie was having none of his pity party nonsense. She turned and crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised. 

“You know, that happens when you leave your family high and dry without a word. You moved and took every piece of furniture except Clyde's  _ bed, _ and we didn't even know you'd gone. No, we had to find out from Earl. I don't know what you expected to happen when you treated us no better than strangers.”

Mellie was quivering with rage, Clyde could tell, but she'd planted her feet and dug her heels in; now that she was off to a running start, there was no stopping her. Her arms dropped and her fists were balled at her sides. Clyde reached for his whiskey; this was about to get messy. 

“Do you have  _ any _ idea what's been going on out here? The kind of  _ sacrifices _ we've all had to make? I kept Duck Tape open,  _ by myself, _ while Clyde was in prison! Clyde got out of prison, only to find out that not only was his brother not waiting for him, even though this whole mess was  _ your _ idea to begin with, but that he had to get a whole houseful of new furniture! I know 'shit happens,'” she drawled, “but this is a whole other level.”

Jimmy had never been one to go quietly--or to fight fair.

“For all you talk about family, Mellie, you forget I have a daughter? Your niece?”

Mellie, however, was unimpressed. 

“Considering I was there for her when you couldn't even remember what day her dance rehearsal was? After I re-arranged my work schedule over and over to make sure that she was ready for her pageants and competitions? You're gonna have to do better than that, Jimmy.”

He threw his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender, a smug smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eye. 

“Alright, yeah, so what, you want to say your piece now?”

“Jimmy, whadja come out here for?” Clyde cut in, before things could escalate any further. “The only furniture you left behind was in my bedroom. You didn’t think I was gonna be home, so it wasn’t to pick a fight with me, and I don’t know what reason you got to be picking a fight with Mel.”

“Pick up my mail,” he replied, looking away as his jaw tightened.

Wordlessly, Clyde shot the rest of his whiskey, and the heavy-bottom shotglass made an audible thud as it hit the countertop, cracking against the tense silence.

“Jimmy,” he began, his moustache drooping as the corners of his mouth turned down, “you ain’t had mail out here since August.”

The eldest Logan flinched. It  _ had  _ been a pretty flimsy excuse, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that Clyde saw right through it. He took a deep, sharp breath, realizing that Clyde would work it out sooner or later. 

“I heard you were seeing someone, a new girl in town. It’s awful convenient, her turning up just after you get out, and I need to figure out what her angle is before the job gets compromised.”

“Jimmy Ray Logan, you godd--”

Mellie’s tongue-lashing was cut short by Clyde’s haymaker, and Jimmy sailed backward, tumbling onto the couch.

_ “Get out.” _

Jimmy touched his cheek gingerly.

“So you  _ do _ have a girlfr--”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY TRAILER!” Clyde roared.

Mellie went to help Jimmy to his feet, but he shook her off. She stood there, arms akimbo, and pursed her lips, caught between shock at Clyde’s violent outburst, disgust at Jimmy’s idiotic “criminal mastermind” posturing, and anger at the insult to Rey, whom she not only considered her friend, but who in all likelihood would be Jimmy’s sister-in-law one day.

Jimmy turned and pointed a finger at Clyde.

“It’s  _ our _ trailer, and we ain’t done talking about this,” Jimmy slurred, his jaw already beginning to swell and bruise. He nearly stumbled out of the trailer, his limp more pronounced after his awkward landing across the arm of the couch.

Clyde said nothing, his fist still balled and his knuckles throbbing. He would never be ashamed of defending Rey, and the invasion of his-- _ their-- _ privacy was unforgivable, but… the last time he’d raised a hand against his older brother, he’d had two hands, and it had been over Jimmy flicking an eight-year-old Clyde’s ears.

Mellie calling his name from the doorway brought Clyde back to the present. 

“Anything I can do?” she asked quietly. Clyde shook his head, and Mellie nodded, as if she’d expected that.

“I just need to be alone,” he croaked.

“Call me if you need.”

He nodded.

“Thanks, Mel.”

She shut the door behind her just in time to hear Jimmy’s truck churn as he cranked the starter. A brief silence. Another series of laborious chugs. Another silence. She walked around the back to see Jimmy smack the steering wheel with an oath, and then try a third time to turn the engine over. When that failed, she crossed her arms and waited. He’d have to get out eventually. By the look on his face when he saw her, and the ensuing thump as he let his head fall back in aggravation, he knew it too. It took him almost a full two minutes to concede to the inevitable.

“You got something else you wanna say to me?” he asked as he opened the door, although his cheek made it sound like ‘ou gah summ else ou wah say a me?’

“Starting with ‘you’re not driving anywhere until I know you don’t have a concussion, Jimmy Ray,’” she told him in her best Mama voice. “Although,” she smirked, “it looks like I don’t have to tell you.”

Jimmy glared at her. Mellie rolled her eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You and I are both gonna need a drink while you explain to me just what on earth you were thinking.”

The pout was unmistakable, even through the swelling, and was followed by a grimace as the adrenaline continued to wear off. Seeing as he didn’t have much choice aside from ‘freeze in the truck’ or ‘go with Mellie,’ he went, grumpily preparing for what was like to be the dressing down of his life.

* * *

“C’mon, Rey,” Poe rasped, his voice heavy with sleep. “BeeBee’s parked in the garage.”

Rey smiled the gentle smile of the groggy as he steered her along; that little orange-and-white car was one of a kind, and she loved it almost as much as Poe did. Once they were seated, she pulled out her mobile.

** _We made it _ **

** _On our way to the hospital_ **

** _I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye properly_ **

** _I would call but I know it’s the middle of the night there_ **

Rey sighed, putting her mobile away and doing her best to put it out of her head. Right now, she needed to focus on Dad, and support Mum and Finn. 

“BeeBee Eight, dial Finn mobile.”

“Calling Finn, mobile,” the car replied robotically. Esther answered Finn’s phone after the first ring.

“Oh! Esther?” 

“Good morning, Poe. Finn is finally sleeping.”

“Poor guy,” Poe commiserated, his lips puckering in a pout. “What about you, Esther? Have you slept?”

“Don’t worry about me, dear.”

“Unlikely. I’m taking Rey by your house to drop off her things and change; anything else you would like besides a set of clothes?”

A pause, then a sigh.

“Since you’re going, that sounds… nice, thank you.”

Rey raised an eyebrow and shot Poe a look that he missed, since his eyes were focused on the road ahead.

“Alright! We’ll be stopping by our place as well, so if you wouldn’t mind letting Finn know?”

“Of course.”

“How is Francis this morning?”

“They gave him a sleeping pill, so he’s resting.”

Poe hummed. 

“Are you hungry? You want a coffee?”

“If you’re getting them anyway, then yes, but don’t go out of your way.”

“Believe me, mum, I’ll be worse than useless without a coffee,” Rey piped up, sleep making her voice froggy.

“Good morning, Rey! In that case, the darker the better, please.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Poe nodded.

By the time that the two arrived at the hospital, freshly showered and dressed, they were armed with coffees and croissants, which they supplied to a quietly grateful Esther and a sleep-addled Finn.  It wasn’t until lunchtime, when she slipped her jacket back on to walk to the deli and pick up food for the family, when she saw Mellie’s reply.

_ Rey honey emergencies happen _

_ We had plenty to keep us occupied _

_ Jimmy stopped by and he and Clyde had words _

_ I’ll let Clyde know you’re safe _

Rey blinked.  _ Jimmy _ had been by? She pursed her lips. It was probably for the best that she wasn’t there, but part of her still itched to give the eldest Logan a piece of her mind. Judging by the message, though, Clyde had done that himself. She spared a thought to be proud of him before her family’s more urgent need of her called her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the increased chapter count: 2 more chapters after this one and the epilogue to go!


	14. P.S., I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Clyde bear a transatlantic separation; Clyde gets the surprise of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific CW: alcohol use.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _This chapter contains transcriptions and embellishments of scenes from the film_ Logan Lucky. _No infringement is intended._

The ringtone screeched, shattering the silence of the trailer. Clyde lifted his head from the pillow where he had collapsed the night before, and blinked the salt and grit out of his eyes. His hand fumbled toward the nightstand, and he nearly bobbled the phone when the name REY flashed across the screen. He couldn’t flip it open fast enough.

“Hello?” His voice was rough, and heavy with sleep.

“Good morning, handsome!”

Even digitized, her voice was a bell pealing in the darkness and a balm to his sore heart.

“Hi, darlin’,” he smiled, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “How was your flight?”

“Long, but I managed to nap a little.”

“And how’s your dad?”

“He’s doing better. He should go home tomorrow morning.”

“Well, good, that’s… good…” he trailed off.

“Everything okay?” A pause. He could almost see her face, how her nose would scrunch up as she gave him a funny look for being so quiet, then she started counting. “Two o’clock, one, noon… I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“I’ve never minded you waking me up, darlin’. I just… I’m not good at phones. I never needed or wanted one until now.” He paused. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Clyde.” 

She was itching to ask about Jimmy, but deep down, she knew that was something that Clyde would have to tell her on his own. As much as she would simply bask in his presence, however virtual, all day, she could hardly afford to run up an international phone tab.

“I was thinking that maybe besides writing, we could call maybe once a week? I mean, once I go back to work, I’ll call you every day, but…”

“That sounds good. The phone is nice, I guess, but your letters were always precious.”

She giggled. 

“Flatterer.”

“Only when it’s true,” he smiled, his words suffused with warmth.

“Clyde, stop!” she squealed, her embarrassment almost palpable. She gulped down a shallow breath. “I love you, Clyde Logan. Even when you say the most outrageous things.”

“And I love you,” he replied, grinning, “even when you pretend I’m outrageous.”

“I’ll call you next Monday?”

“‘Til Monday.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up, setting the phone on top of the notebook where she'd written her mailing address. He'd write her soon; for now, he needed to get ready for his first week without her in it.

* * *

**_Dear Rey,_ **

** _I never understood how it was that people could talk about ‘home’ and mean anything other than the place that they were born, or maybe their parents’ house. Since you left, though, nothing about West Virginia feels like home anymore. I think you took it with you._ **

** _I don’t mean to say that I’m not getting on. I am. Earl asked about you when he came in; he asked me to pass along his best wishes for your dad. A couple of the other regulars have asked about you too. To be honest, I didn’t know anyone had really noticed? Of course, everybody noticed; that’s just how it is here. I wasn’t really paying attention to anyone else, though. Just you._ **

** _I know that Mellie mentioned to you that Jimmy came over the other day. I don’t really have a whole lot to say about it, other than that I’m glad you weren’t here. I would say he put his foot in his mouth, but it would be more accurate to say that I put my fist in it. It’s not a thing I’m proud of, but I’m not ashamed of it either. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t understand who you are, or that you’re everything to me._ **

** _Doing my best to stay busy, make the time go by until I can hold you again somewhere other than in my dreams. _ **

** _Love, _ **

** _Clyde_**

* * *

_ Dearest Clyde, _

_ I’m sorry that it’s taken me a few days to write. Can I confess something? A few somethings, really. _

_ Firstly, you were right. Coming home was the right decision. My family really needs me, and that feels good. I’ve been at the hospital, then home to help Mum look after Dad. Of course, I also found out when I got back that Kira, the manager of the mechanic shop where I was working, got sacked, and the new manager said he wasn’t bound by Kira’s assurance that my job would be there when I got back. He offered to rehire me at a starting apprentice’s salary. I told him where he could go. In retrospect, that wasn’t my finest hour. The guys in the shop were stunned when I came to clean out my locker, but they told me that Julia, another mechanic who had been Kira’s first new hire, was let go two weeks before. Something tells me it’s just as well. Besides, as Mum keeps saying, God moves in mysterious ways. _

_ Honestly, I don’t know how much I believe that, but God or no God, they really need my help, and I’m really available to give it… _

_ Beyond all that, I miss you, though that doesn’t really express what I mean. I hate being away from you every minute. Taking care of Dad can distract me, but when I lay down to sleep, or even sit down for a cup of tea, I feel so hollow, like there’s an enormous hole in my chest. It makes me feel transparent, like everybody can see right through me and knows that I’m incomplete. So though you were right, I was right too. I just wish I could have both, somehow. _

_ The time that we spent together is burned in my memory; that, together with our phone calls and letters, will have to be enough to sustain me until I see you again. _

_ Mum and I are about to go on a shopping expedition; Poe has come over to look after Dad. Tell me about what you’ve been up to? No matter how boring you think it is, I promise I want to hear about it. _

_ All of my love, _

_ Your Rey. _

_ P.S. - Poe asked me to tell you hello, from him. _

* * *

Clyde felt the sunshine pouring over his face as he was awakened by the ringing phone. He stretched, then opened the phone, basking in warmth.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart.”

“Good morning, handsome.” 

Almost out of hearing came a hiss--_ ”Oh, shut up, Poe!” _\--and a disdainful snort.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, no, just this _ absolute tosser _ over here making stupid kissy faces,” Rey huffed.

Clyde grinned.

“You can let Poe know that’s nice and all, but I’d rather kiss _ you.” _

Rey burst out laughing.

“Sorry, Poe, Clyde says all his kisses are for me!”

A distant, melodramatic “I'm _ wounded! _” floated back over the line.

Rey turned back to the phone, still chortling.

“Anyway, I mailed you a letter a couple of days ago, though I’m sure you haven’t gotten it yet.”

“I sent you one yesterday, so hopefully you’ll get it in a week or two.”

She sighed.

“How did we ever wait this long?”

“You don’t _ really _ need me to answer that, do you?”

“No,” she pouted. “Just… email would be so much faster.”

“And you and I would never get anything else done,” Clyde pointed out. “Besides, can you see _ me _ trying to type out an email, one letter at a time? You know I don’t even _ own _ a computer… but if that’s what you want, I’ll try.”

Rey giggled, though it was tinged with sadness. Her huge bear of a man playing hunt-and-peck on a tiny keyboard _ was _a funny visual, but the idea of having to wait hours, let alone days, to communicate with anyone anymore seemed almost primitive. Still, she felt unaccountably selfish at the idea of demanding that he invest in a computer for the sole purpose of communicating with her. Too, there was a certain thrill to postal mail that email could not replicate.

“Oh, all right,” she groused playfully, then went quiet. 

“Rey?” Had they gotten disconnected?

“Actually, there is one point where I could use your advice, love.” She sounded hesitant, almost scared.

“Anything, darlin’,”

He heard a door shut, and Rey’s voice was low, almost conspiratorial.

“So… I don’t know how to even talk about it. It just… it feels like…” Her sigh ended in an exasperated growl. “My relationship with Finn is a little rocky right now, and it… well, it makes me nervous. There's just been this… thing, ever since I got back, where it feels like he was mad at me for going.”

There was a long, shaky pause.

“Are you still there?”

“Uh huh. Just listening.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, Poe says that's not true, Finn’s not angry, but he won't tell me anything more. Instead, he just keeps telling me to talk to Finn… but it feels like Finn doesn't want to talk to me. I wish I knew what to do.”

Clyde could feel her heartbreak.

“Oh darlin’, I wish I could hold you right now.”

Rey sniffled.

“Me too.”

Clyde took a deep breath.

“All right, since you asked, here’s what I think: I haven’t met Finn, but I know what you’ve told me in your letters, and I _ have _ met Poe. Someone with people like you two in his life doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be mad at you for trying to be happy.”

Clyde knew Rey. He knew how little she thought of her own happiness and how afraid she was of the people she loved up and leaving her. He switched tacks.

“As an older brother of a little sister, I really doubt it’s that he doesn’t want to talk to you. He just might not know what to say, or he might think that you don’t want to hear his feelings about your life. Poe’s right. Just… talk to him, Rey. You might be surprised.”

Rey’s breath quivered, and she sniffled again.

“All right,” she breathed, fear in every syllable.

“Finn isn’t going to abandon you, Rey.” Clyde shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “He would never have called you to come home if he had decided you didn’t belong in his life anymore.”

A series of obnoxious beeps sounded in his ear, signalling the last minute of his phone card.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I needed to hear that. Though it does mean that I’m not going to hear the end of it from Poe about being right for a few days.”

“There are worse things,” Clyde comforted her. “I love you--”

The phone cut him off, and he closed the clamshell with a frustrated sigh, Perhaps there was something to the idea of getting a computer after all.

* * *

** _Sweetheart,_ **

** _I’m glad I finally got your letters. I don’t miss you any less, but getting your letters makes it easier… and harder. _ **

** _I’m sorry to hear about your job at the garage, though I can’t be sorry that you came to meet me. I’m not sure that I’d agree that it wasn’t your finest hour… broken promises that hurt people’s lives shouldn’t get a pass, and you deserve to have someone stand up for you. I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t know where you were working, because I’d have a few words for that manager myself. Still, if you’re alright with it, I guess I don’t have cause to complain, as long as you’re safe and taken care of. I just want you to know that you won’t ever want for those things as long as I’m alive._ **

** _Things are changing here, though I’m not sure what to make of it. Jimmy hasn’t been back since the day you left, which is just as well, I guess. Something about it feels different; maybe it’s that I’m not counting on anything from that quarter anymore._ **

** _I hope these letters sustain you for a while longer, until we can figure out how to be together again._ **

** _Yours, always,_ **

** _Clyde_ **

* * *

“Hi handsome!” Rey chirped. “I tried to call again after our last call, but your phone was tits up, and--”

Clyde choked.

“My phone was _what_ now?”

Rey gave a not-at-all ladylike chuckle. 

“Tits up. Broken.”

“Uh huh,” he replied, rolling to one side. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, Mum and Dad are gone to a follow-up appointment, so I'm streaming old Ab Fab and working on a new project.”

“What kind of project?”

“Beading, actually. It’s surprising soothing, choosing colors and letting patterns take shape.” She paused, turning the subject. “I talked to Finn.”

“How did it go?”

“Well, you know Finn was against me going to America at first.”

Clyde hummed.

“Mostly, he said, it was because he was afraid that someone with bad intentions had contacted me… though probably _ also _ because I allowed the let on my flat to expire. The idea that I would sell everything and leave the country certainly didn’t make him worry any less about whether I was putting myself in danger.”

Clyde couldn’t breathe.

“You… don’t have a place to live?!”

“No, silly, I’m living in while I help Mum with Dad.” She paused thoughtfully. “Considering what happened to my job, though, it’s definitely for the best that I didn’t have to make rent when I got home. Then,” Rey continued, returning to the original topic, “when Dad had his heart attack, and Finn called me, I felt like some part of him was angry with me for not being here. That turned out to be projection, though… I _ did _ feel pretty angry and guilty at first, and he was scared and overwhelmed because both his sister and his husband were gone.

“Anyway, the point is that my oldest and best friend and big brother told me that he didn’t resent me going. He says he’s glad Mellie found me. Of course, he knows I don’t need anyone’s permission or approval, but…” 

Clyde’s brain had gotten stuck several sentences back.

“You… moved out of your apartment to come down here?” Clyde’s panic must have come through in his voice, because her tone immediately turned placating, soothing.

“It’s alright, Clyde. My visa was good for up to three months, and I wasn’t sure how long I was going to stay. I didn’t want to have to pay rent when I wasn’t working. It was my solution, and I still don’t think it was a bad one.”

“But--”

“Clyde, please. What’s done is done and I don’t regret it. October was the happiest month of my entire life.” 

She hesitated. 

“You don’t regret it, do you?”

“No! God, no. I just… I wish I could help. I should be taking care of you,” he argued, feeling useless.

“That sounds wonderful,” she sighed happily, “and I promise I’ll let you take care of me when we’re together again, in whatever way you think is best. Once this has all wound down, it’ll just be a matter of plane fare.” 

“It can’t come soon enough for me, darlin’. I miss you so much. You give me sweet dreams, and they’re nice, but the reality is so much better.”

“Tell me about your dreams, Clyde,” Rey prompted--just in time for her phone to buzz with another call. She swore, and there was a pause long enough to reconnect his brain and his tongue, which had short-circuited.

“Everything okay?” 

“Mum’s calling. Promise you’ll tell me later?”

“I’ll… try. I promise you that, angel. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

* * *

_ Dearest Clyde, _

_ I can't tell you how happy I was to receive your letters yesterday--or how heartbroken I am for your loneliness. My poor love! Your home is cosy and well, if a touch empty waiting for you, as I’m sure my other letters have told you by now. _

_ Dad’s recovery has been superb; he’s made excellent progress, and he and Mum are on schedule to depart for Fiji at the end of the week! Honestly, I think they need the vacation now more than ever. _

_ Is it wrong if I’m ready for them to take a vacation too? Not that I don’t love them with all my heart; not that I wouldn’t do it again; but it’s been a lot all at once and for almost a month. _

_ I’m glad that I got things worked out with Finn. He and I have always been like chalk and cheese, and it was hard feeling so distant from him. We’ve got plans to spend a lot of BF time together while Mum and Dad are in Fiji. because it turns out it’s just going to be the two of us as often as not for a couple of weeks! Poe’s going to be flying again for the next few weeks, though he’ll be staying in Europe this time, so he’ll probably be home every three or four days. Of course, Finn will be working too, so I’m probably going to have quite a lot of time to myself. I need to find a job, or if not a job, then a hobby… otherwise I think I’ll run mad before Christmas. _

_ Write soon, and I’ll talk to you on Monday! _

_ Love, _

_ Your Rey _

* * *

The line rang twice, three times. After the fourth ring extended double, the line picked up.

“Hello--!”

“This number has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet,” a cold, robotic voice declared. “Please try your call again later. Goodbye.”

When she did as the voice had asked, it was answered after the first ring.

“Hi Rey,” came a feminine whisper.

“...Mellie? Is Clyde all right?”

“‘Fraid not. He’s caught himself a little cold, or something. I was just bringing over a pot of chicken and dumplings.”

Rey’s heart felt like it had been pierced.

“Can I talk to him?”

“I’ll see if he’s up,” she offered. A muted Mellie gently poked Clyde awake, and asked if he wanted to talk to Rey.

“‘Lo?” Clyde’s voice croaked. He sounded like his throat had been scoured with sandpaper.

“Oh, Clyde! You poor thing!”

“Hey, darlin’,” he rasped.

“Shhh,” Rey admonished. “You need rest more than anything. Did you get my letters?” 

“Mmm.”

“All right. Call me when you’re feeling better?”

“Mmm.”

“Love you, mountain man. Miss you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he replied, dissolving into a coughing jag that sounded truly horrid, as if his lungs were leaving his body in protest.

“And Clyde? If Mellie tries to take you to the doctor, _ you go.” _

He wheezed a sigh.

“Yes’m.”

“Goodbye, love.”

“Bye.”

* * *

“Hello?”

“Good morning, love! You sound better?”

“Mostly,” Clyde agreed, his voice still a touch froggy. 

“The letters helped, I trust?”

Clyde turned a deep shade of red, and deflected the topic.

“How are your mom and dad enjoying their vacation?”

Rey paused, and Clyde feared he’d disappointed her, but her tone was light and cheerful.

“Oh, I’ve barely heard from them! I’m sure they’ll have an avalanche of holiday snaps when they get back.”

“So what have you been doing?”

“Hanging out with Finn when he’s not meeting with clients, mostly. We’ve been to lunch a few times, and the other night we had curry and watched bad horror movies while Poe was in Krakow. How about you? Have you been back to work yet?”

“Saturday was my first night back,” he admitted.

“Wow, so… you were off for an entire week.”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been a bad cold.”

“Yeah.”

“My poor love,” she pouted. “Too bad I was stuck here.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to get sick, darlin’, and you probably would have.”

“Maybe…” Rey hedged. “So, I’ve seen a couple of really good plane fares for late January… but I don’t know how long I might have to wait to get another visa or extend the one I have.”

“If that’s how long we have to wait, I guess we waited six years, right?” Clyde was angling for enthusiastic encouragement, but landed somewhere in ‘resigned but hopeful’ territory.

She sighed, then grinned mischievously.

“I know I said I’m good at waiting, but… it’s _ so hard!” _ If innuendo could be delivered courtesy of a verbal two-by-four upside the skull, then and only then could this be called ‘innuendo.’ “Wouldn’t you agree that it’s hard, Clyde?”

His end of the phone was silent, but for deep, controlled breaths.

“I can hear you blushing, you know,” she teased him, knowing that he would, if anything, turn redder. It was curious how a man who could be so filthy on paper--to say nothing of in person--could be so straight-laced, almost prudish, over the phone.

“Unless that’s where you want all the blood to go, can we _ not _ do this over the phone, darlin’? Please?” he begged, increasingly desperate to salvage some shred of dignity before his ears started smoking.

She gave a bell-clear laugh.

“I’m sorry, love, I’ll stop! I just miss you, and I want… I want to share those things with you again.”

He smiled, his embarrassment beginning to wane in the face of her earnest desire.

“We will, darlin’, I promise.”

“I guess I can be happy with that…” she conceded. “I love you, Clyde. So much.”

“I love you too, angel.”

* * *

** _Sweet Rey,_ **

** _I wanted to write you sooner, but I only wanted to send you my love, not a cold. I'm glad your dad is feeling better, and relieved that you and Finn worked things out and are back to old times; I know how much you both care for each other and how much it hurts when a person can't count on their brother. _ **

** _To be completely honest, if it had been Mellie, I probably wouldn't have wanted her to go either, and would have worried the whole time. We both want our sisters to be happy, though, so I think Finn and I will get on just fine, whenever I finally do meet him. I owe him and his parents a 'thank you' for taking such good care of the most precious woman in the world when I do. A month has been worse than torture; it doesn't seem possible that we've been apart for as long as we were together. It feels like eternity, and _ **

* * *

Clyde stood up, quickly hiding his letter inside a book, when someone started banging on the door. He opened it to find Mellie and Jimmy out front, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Y’all wanna come in?”

“Nah, we’ve got someplace to go. Get your coat,” Mellie said, flicking her hair toward the Nova, which was parked behind Jimmy’s truck.

Clyde surveyed them cooly. 

“Where are we going?”

“Charlotte,” Jimmy urged. “C’mon.”

“No. No more cauliflower business.” Clyde crossed his arms.

“There ain’t no more,” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “This is the end of it.”

Clyde glared at Jimmy, then toned down his look to one of concerned skepticism when he turned his attention back to Mellie.

“I know, Clyde,” she nodded, understanding what he hadn’t said yet. “But would you do it for me, please?”

His shoulders drooped; there was no way he could say no to his little sister, especially not after everything.

“Alright,” he grumbled, reaching for his coat. “This is the end, though. I mean it.”

Mellie and Clyde rode in the Nova, following Jimmy’s truck down some back roads and to a brown space not far from the Charlotte landfill.

“That’s a lovely smell you’ve discovered, Jimmy,” Mellie muttered as she got out of the car. She took up a position sitting on the trunk, looking out for anyone else who came driving up. 

Clyde tilted his head in confusion at the construction equipment. He walked over to stand next to his brother, who was standing next to Earl. The grizzled mechanic looked at a map with a big black X on it.

“Yeah, you’re right there. You’re right on top of it, just dig in there,” he shouted into the radio, and the loader started moving the dirt, digging down until little black patches blossomed out of the ground, like dark turnips.

Jimmy grabbed his shovel and went to work, unearthing almost a dozen plastic bags tied with red rubber. Clyde couldn’t contain his curiosity for long and sauntered down, only to feel his eyes bug out when he saw an arm poking up out of one of the bags. What in the hell had Jimmy gotten them into now? Clyde fairly ran the rest of the way down.

“Told you I’d get it,” Jimmy said when Clyde barrelled up behind him, and tossed him the arm--his old prosthesis. 

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“Grab one of those bags, and haul it up to Mellie.”

Clyde did as he was told, and her gasp became an inverted squeal of glee. Mellie threw her arms around Clyde, laughing, and he hugged her back, feeling nothing but relief and gratitude. This whole ordeal was finally over--and the money didn’t hurt things either. That afternoon, though, once the spoils were divided and the high had worn off, now that it was all over and done with, Clyde found himself adrift, and he felt more alone than ever. He looked down at the book on his table, where he’d shoved his letter to keep it away from prying eyes, and felt something well up from deep within. 

He didn’t have to be alone. Now it was his turn to plan.

Clyde’s passport was dusty, but still good; the expiration date 02 August 2020 was stamped inside. He’d renewed it right before his unit had been due to ship home. Back then, he’d gotten a taste of the world outside of West Virginia and thought he’d want to see more; after everything, he’d put all thoughts of travel aside until after he’d healed his limbs and his heart, and then forgotten about it.

Now, though, he had money, he had a passport, and he had a destination. All he needed was to wrap up his loose ends. 

* * *

It was a fairly busy night by Duck Tape standards as Clyde lined up a row of shot glasses. Loretta Lynn was playing on the jukebox, and Jimmy was sitting on his usual stool, looking mighty pleased with himself--which, all things considered, he likely should have been.

“You never told me how you knew the coast was clear and we could go get the money,” Clyde said softly, counting on the ambient noise to keep the conversation private. His outright resentment of Jimmy had dissolved with the reappearance of the money that everyone had sacrificed so much for, but there was still a gulf of trust between the two brothers that might not ever be repaired.

“Well, you know how that phone company give you about sixty days to pay that phone bill?”

“Yeah,” Clyde nodded, not quite following.

“Well, you go one day over,” Jimmy explained, scratching one eyebrow, “and they shut your phone off.” 

“So?” Clyde answered with bated breath, though this was less because he was awestruck and more because he was holding back a sigh, wishing Jimmy would just get to the point. Jimmy chuckled.

“I ain’t paid the bill out at the trailer in, like, six months,” he continued, as Clyde began filling the row of shot glasses.

“So?” 

“Figured, long as they was tapping my phone, they’d keep it on,” he continued, slowly lifting his beer bottle. “About a week ago, it finally went dead.”

Jimmy lifted his bottle and took a drink, never taking his eyes off of his little brother.

Clyde was both surprised and begrudgingly impressed. He finished pouring the row of shots, and his pitch raised about an octave.

“That’s pretty good…”

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed.

“You came up with that on your own?” Clyde’s voice was almost incredulous.

“Yes, I did.” Jimmy’s chest puffed up a little.

“Well, that’s a lot of thinking for a Logan,” Clyde finally conceded, his shot glass clinking with Jimmy’s. The brothers shot their liquor, and then Jimmy stood, rubbing the goosebumps on his arm, to greet Sylvia with a kiss. Clyde slid a couple of shots down to Mellie and Joe Bang, who regrettably seemed to be getting on rather well.

He did his best to block out whatever they were talking about, though he did hear his name mentioned, and he turned away to find the new woman across the bar with the oddest look on her face. Eavesdropping? Or just lonesome? She’d come alone, after all, and no one had joined her. Clyde’s most pressing problem, however, was that her shot glass was empty.

“Oh shoot! Sorry about that,” Clyde smiled, and he grabbed the nearly-empty tequila bottle. “Another Especial for the lady?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice husky and distinct. “I missed out on the toast. You know, they say it’s bad luck to toast with an empty glass.”

He nodded congenially as he topped off her glass.

“They do say that.”

“It’s also bad luck to toast alone, so why don’t you pour yourself one on me, so you don’t jinx me?”

Clyde gave her a polite, if hesitant smile, feeling like she was angling for something, but unsure what. He turned to get himself a shot glass, but spoke over his shoulder.

“I would have remembered if you’d ever been in the bar before,” he began, then walked back over with the shot glass in hand. “You just passing through?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “passing through.” She paused, presumably for emphasis. “Though I’m hoping to stay a while.”

He nearly balked at that. What kind of woman with a Mid-Atlantic accent came alone to the middle of nowhere, hoping to stay a while? Still, depending on what she meant by 'stay a while,' her unlooked-for appearance might just be the universe's way of pushing Clyde toward his goal. He smiled, his face softening a bit.

“Well, here’s to staying awhile,” he toasted, and she gave him a wide smile.

“Now, you just let me know if you want something else, all right?”

She nodded, and he turned back toward Mellie to find that Joe had wandered off to the jukebox. He motioned her back behind the bar and toward the kitchen.

“Hey Mel, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” she replied, hopping off of her barstool and grabbing one of the line of shots in front of Jimmy, giving him a mischievous wink. Once she’d gotten back to the kitchen, she cocked her head at her middle brother. “What do you need?”

“I’m gonna sell the bar.”

Mellie blinked, then shot her tequila and shivered.

“Run that by me again?”

“I’m gonna sell the bar,” he repeated patiently. “Now that all of this business is over, I’m ready to move on.”

Several long moments passed as Mellie absorbed what her brother had said.

“Did you have someone in mind?”

“As of about two minutes ago, yes.”

“So what do you need from me?”

Clyde laid out a rough plan: Mellie could chat the lady up, see what she had to say for herself, and if she seemed like she'd be interested, they could work it out in fairly short order. Hopefully. If they were lucky. Someone like that, looking to stay, would need some kind of a job if they didn’t have one already, wouldn’t they? 

* * *

At a series of rapid-fire pings, Poe looked down at his phone. His Messenger app badge showed nine new messages. He raised an eyebrow.

“Mellie Logan.”

_ Hi Poe  
_ _ I know we didn’t get to meet but I wanted to ask you something  
_ _ 1st how’s Rey's dad?  
_ _ 2nd what are y’all’s Christmas plans  
_ _ Because Clyde wants to send her a present  
_ _ A big present  
_ _ It’s Clyde  
_ _ He wants to come see her  
_ _ :-) _

Poe grinned.

** _Hi Mellie  
_ ** ** _Nice to meet you  
_ ** ** _That sounds amazing, what do you need me to do  
_ ** ** _Besides find a gigantic box  
_ ** ** _What color bow do you think?   
_ ** ** _;-)_ **

_ Green, for sure  
_ _ Rey’s fave color _

** _I can’t wait to play Santa Claus  
_ ** ** _Or Father Christmas or whatever  
_ ** ** _He’s welcome to crash here_ **

_ Sounds great  
_ _ You’re serious about finding or making a big box? _

** _100%  
_ ** ** _We’ll even record it for you_ **

_ Perfect  
_ _ Blackmail material ;-) _

Poe nodded his approval to no one in particular, then nudged Finn, who was relaxing next to him with a dog-eared trashy romance novel. 

“Hey babe. Clyde wants to come visit for Christmas.”

Finn didn’t look up.

“She must be positively giddy about it,” he said, a soft smile creasing his face, and he turned the page, about to get to the part where the lord of the manor found himself ass-over-teakettle for a foundling young man.

“She _ doesn’t know.” _ Poe waggled his eyebrows, practically bouncing in his seat.

Finn dropped his book as a positively gleeful and utterly devious look overtook his features.

“What does Mellie need us to do?”


	15. No More Speed, I'm Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde gets his ducks in a row despite what feels like an apocalyptic level of stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice the chapter count went up by one--this chapter was too big to keep as one chapter, so I split it up. The other part should be up by the end of this week!

Mellie hit send on her message to Poe and smiled at the mental picture of Clyde in a giant box with a pretty green bow on it, but the smile didn’t last long. Something about Clyde’s whole scheme still wasn’t sitting quite right with her. Not about Clyde going to London, obviously--_ that _ notion had her unconditional approval--but about deciding to sell the bar to a total stranger five minutes after meeting her. When she’d gone over to introduce herself, and invite the woman to shoot some pool, the stranger had introduced herself as Sarah. Sarah had been stiff, awkward, and even when she was playing a friendly game as opposed to hustling the table, Mellie hadn’t been able to help beating her soundly, and they had eventually drifted back to their barstools, though not before Joe had made some decidedly risque quips about Mellie’s cue handling and the height of the table. 

Last night, Mellie had been wary of Sarah’s aloof distance, but had been willing to put everything down to being a woman alone in a new town on Sarah’s part, and the tequila and the shock of so many big changes so quickly on her own part, and she’d decided to go home and sleep on it--alone. (Joe’s surprised disappointment had been unmistakable.) Morning had come, though, and, to borrow a phrase, Mellie still had a bad feeling about this. It was unlike Clyde to be so impulsive, and maybe with decent luck, he had gone home and slept on it and would wake up and realize how crazy it was. Where Rey was concerned, though, Mellie was not inclined to rely on luck--or her brother’s usually-rock-solid reason. She dialed Clyde’s number.

“What’s wrong, Mel?” His voice was husky with sleep.

“We need to talk about this plan of yours some more. Can we meet for lunch?”

A pause.

“Sure. Lucy’s?”

“Sounds good. 12:30 okay?”

“See you then.”

Clyde hung up the phone, and Mellie put her phone down on her hair station, blowing out a pent-up breath in time to put on a smile for her first client of the day.

“Morning, Purple Lady!”

* * *

Around 11:15, Mellie’s phone buzzed; Julia’s color was almost done processing, so she peeked at the screen and was surprised to see that Clyde had texted her. Would wonders never cease?

** _I got us a table in the back._ **

_ OK I won’t be done until 12 tho _

She put down her phone where she could see his reply, but the screen faded out, staying dark for several minutes.

** _It’s fine, I’m having coffee._ **

Mellie wasn’t surprised at her brother’s desire for privacy, or that he was willing to show up over an hour early in order to get it. When she arrived at the diner, it was fairly packed for lunch, but Clyde was easy to pick out, even in a crowd. He rose to hug her, and they sat down, giving their orders to the waitress that had come to refill Clyde’s coffee.

“I saw you two wander off to play pool last night. What did you find out?”

Mellie dodged his question with one of her own.

“So…” Mellie began, clasping her hands on the table, “is this for real? You’re really gonna sell your bar?”

He sighed, the corners of his lips turning down.

“Yep,” he replied, stirring in his customary three sugar packets.

“Why? I mean, I get that you’re going to visit Rey, but… what we got ain’t retirement, and even if you _ do _ sell the bar, that’s not going to be enough for you to live on! What are you going to do when you get back?”

A thought struck Mellie into silence, just in time for the waitress to bring her drink.

“You alright, honey?” the older woman asked, brow furrowed. “You look white as a sheet!”

Mellie pasted on a slight smile. 

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, taking a sip of her Diet Coke while she gathered her thoughts, the silence stretching out over the delivery of their lunch plates.

“Clyde, are you… _ are _ you coming back?”

He paused, the coffee cup halfway off of the table, and pursed his lips.

“I don’t know, Mel.” 

She blinked rapidly, stunned, and Clyde took a drink of his coffee, then set the mug back down.

“Mellie, have you ever thought about doing something else? Walking away from hair and changing it all up?”

Mellie chewed her burger thoughtfully, then swallowed and shook her head.

“I can’t say that I have. Hair is art for me. It lets me bring out other people’s natural beauty. I also get to be my own boss. I can’t think of another job that would give me those things.” Following the trail to its end, she set her burger down. “Bartending isn’t your dream job, so walking away from that isn’t so hard, I guess.”

He nodded soberly, then added, “I figured you felt like that, but the way that you were upset, I suddenly wondered if you needed a change too. If you don’t want to run the bar--and it’s fine that you don’t, by the way--I need to make sure someone’s in charge of it. Even if I _ could _ run in from London...” he shuddered at the thought.

“Alright, I see your point, Clyde, but are you sure it’s wise to just… sell it off to someone you met last night?”

He shrugged. 

“How often does someone blow into this town alone, hoping to stay a while? Still, it sounds like you don’t really like her.”

“Honestly, Clyde, that’s kind of my point--she blows into town out of nowhere, and is really stiff and keeps to herself. It was like pulling teeth to find out her first name--she didn’t give me her last,” Mellie frowned. “I just… something’s off, and I don’t know what.”

“I don’t think things are ever going to line up for me like this again. I need to take this chance, Mel.” His eyes flicked down and his shoulders fell. “I don’t know how to be without her anymore, and I don’t want to.”

“Did you already talk to Sarah about it?”

“No, I didn’t bring it up, but I was thinking about it.”

“Well, why don’t you put an ad in the paper and a sign out front? If she’s interested, she’ll come to you, but you’d be surprised--you’ve made Duck Tape an institution and someone from around here will want to buy it.”

Clyde tucked into his burger with single-minded focus, and nodded.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

They ate, Clyde paid, and they parted ways, Clyde heading to the hardware store to pick up a For Sale sign, and Mellie heading back to her 2:30 client with a head that was fuller than her stomach.

* * *

Nearly two weeks later, Clyde was opening the bar at ten in the morning for the property inspector, musing that the whole process had been blessedly straightforward and very fast; he had put up the sign that afternoon, and before the day was out, he’d been contacted by a real estate agent on behalf of a buyer. The buyer apparently had excellent credit, and had a bank ready to loan the money within forty-eight hours. The thing that had taken the longest was scheduling the property inspection, and provided all went well, the buyer was willing to finalize the offer, close, and take possession immediately upon successful inspection.

(This was good, considering the departure date stamped on Clyde’s ticket was December 23. He had only forborne telling Rey because Mellie had let him in on the plan to surprise her, and while the romantic in him had loved the idea, it was easily the most difficult silence he had ever kept.)

The thought flitted through Clyde’s head that maybe the Logan Family Curse had at long last run its course, and was buoyed by a wave of optimism. In retrospect, Clyde thought, he ought to have known better.

The inspection entered its second hour, and Clyde stood cleaning the bartop as the man from the government office with the demeanor of a constipated polecat finally finished going over every inch of the place with what felt like unusually painstaking slowness.

“Alright, Clyde, sign here,” he said, sliding over a clipboard with a four-page checklist covered in copious notes.

Clyde’s eyebrows lifted as he scanned the document.

“Warren, I don’t remember this being nearly so detailed when I bought this place five years ago.”

The other man shrugged, looking put-upon.

“Gotta impress the Feds,” he sulked.

“Do_ what _ now?!” Clyde couldn’t help the panic that colored his voice, tightening the cords in his neck.

“Your buyer?” Warren snapped, as if that explained everything, and motioned for Clyde to hurry up with the signing.

“Oh,” Clyde attempted a cool disinterest, adding an eyeroll for good measure. He could have slapped his thigh and danced a reel, though, for all that the salt-and-pepper moustache was paying attention. He scrawled a signature. “Drink before you go?”

“Nah,” the man brayed. “Couldn’t have anything good anyways.”

He snatched back his clipboard and clomped out of the bar, leaving a panicked Clyde in his wake.

** _How soon can you cut my hair?_ **

_ Um… I don’t have anybody right now what’s going on? _

** _Be there in 15._ **

_ You OK? _

** _No._ **

Clyde was visibly perturbed when he walked into the shop.

“What’s going on with you?” Mellie asked, gesturing him toward the shampoo bowl, and he sat, leaning back.

“Inspection was today,” Clyde said, his jaw tight.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with your bar, Clyde, why are you sweating it?”

Clyde’s voice dropped, barely loud enough to be heard over the running water.

“The inspector mentioned that the buyer is a federal agent.”

Mellie froze, her eyes going wide, and there was a long silence shaded only by the flow of water down the back of Clyde’s head. At last, Mellie spoke.

“Do you think they know?”

He swallowed.

“I couldn’t say.”

“What do we do?” Her voice was a whispered plea, heavy with emotion. Clyde hadn’t seen his baby sister look this scared, this _ lost, _ since Mama had gotten sick.

“Keep on? Run? I don’t know,” he moaned, his expression pained as his eyes slid closed. 

“It’s all my fault, Mel,” he continued, his voice shaky. “I should have just listened to you. I should have remembered the Curse. I’m so sorry.” He hung his head back in the shampoo bowl, throat bared, waiting for her to get righteously angry at him.

“Well,” she sighed at last, after several minutes of silently running her fingers through his soaked strands, “it’s not _ all _ your fault, and I don’t believe in that curse stuff. Every family has bad things happen to them, and we all make choices, don't we? Seems like these might not pan out the way we thought, but we don’t even know that for sure, do we?”

She washed his hair, her touch unbearably warm and loving. Why was she comforting him? She had every right to rip him a new one--why wasn’t she?

“You know,” she continued thoughtfully, twisting his hair in a towel and gesturing him toward the chair, “if they were trying to sting you, they wouldn’t be buying your bar. You’ve always kept your books and your floors clean. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

“You think so?”

Mellie nodded, pulling a length of hair between her fingers as her scissors clipped.

“Lots of people work for the Man, Clyde. Even you used to, when you were a soldier. Besides, if they were still looking into it, they would still be listening on the phone, like Jimmy said.” She pulled a grimace. “He may be an idiot sometimes, and shoot his mouth off at the wrong times, but he’s right about that.”

“Anyway,” she continued, the snips of metal and the quiet, wet thud of hair hitting the floor creating a hypnotic, lulling rhythm, “I think you’ll find that most families have some pretty crazy stories about ‘way back when,’ so it seems to me that either _ everybody’s _ cursed--” she stopped cutting, her eyes riveting to his in the mirror-- “or _ no one _ is.”

He took a few deep breaths, absorbing her words as she loosened the snarls and tangles, wrangling with ease what would look to anyone else like an impossible bramble. Clyde and Jimmy had always fought over the Curse, but Jimmy had always tried to argue that what had happened hadn’t _ really _ happened, dismissing it as folktales and gossip. Clyde had found the newspaper articles, the journal entries. He knew the events had happened, regardless of what Jimmy said. Mellie’s argument was... different, and her delivery of the coup de grace was downright casual.

“‘Sides, you take one look at Rey and tell me whether you think you’re cursed.”

He opened and closed his mouth once, twice.

“She’d probably wallop me upside the head.”

Mellie snorted indelicately. 

“I expect she would, and she’d be right to do it. Anyhow, there’s no point in worrying about it.”

He sighed, doing his best to let go of his terror.

“S’pose not.” Clyde waited for Mellie to finish clipping before he shifted in his seat. “Speaking of Jimmy, have you heard from him?”

“Not really,” Mellie said. “You told him yet?”

“I figured I’d wait until I knew for sure.”

“When is that going to be?”

Clyde shrugged, and Mellie resumed cutting his hair, cleaning up the split ends and shortening the length a bit--if he was going to be in another country for a while, she supposed she might as well.

* * *

As for the sale, it didn’t take long for Clyde to know for sure; Friday afternoon, he got a phone call from the buyer’s agent.

“Hello, Mister Logan? It’s Tracie Figg, from Wymas & Dibble. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, fumbling for a chair. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the auburn-haired real estate agent, but he knew he’d better be sitting down. “Go ahead.”

“Well, the inspection came back, and everything looks good! The buyer is offering two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the business, including all furniture and stock, and the acreage that it’s located on.”

Oh. That was a quarter of a million dollars, being offered for his bar. He felt like he was floating upside down. 

“So,” Tracie plowed on, oblivious to his shock, “should you accept the offer, the buyer is ready to close and take possession at your convenience.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”

The agent paused, and Clyde could almost hear the calculator whirring in her head.

“It’s a generous return on your initial investment in 2011, even with the roofing and flooring costs that you took on,” she hedged. 

He blinked. She thought he was balking because it was too little! His head was still spinning at the prospect of that amount of money--it didn’t seem real. Clyde had, after all, bought the bar at a rock bottom price, far less than the bar and land were worth, after the Great Recession had caught up with the previous owner.

He should tell her he’d give her an answer tomorrow.

He should let her know he’d call her back by the end of the day.

All he could think about, though, was Rey. He couldn’t agree fast enough.

“When and where?”

The _ when _ was on the following day, the nineteeth of December, and the _ where _was at Duck Tape itself. Clyde was in total shock; Tracie had kept the identity of her buyer completely under wraps. The woman who had come into his bar, hoping to stay a while, was a federal agent? His hand felt like it was shaking so badly he couldn’t even sign the paperwork, but if he were to pull out at such a late point, it would be beyond suspicious. 

Feeling trapped, he went through the motions as best he could, so focused on getting through the signing that the sound of Tracie's voice nearly made him jump out of his chair. 

“This will be a big change from the Beltway, huh?” The auburn-haired woman smirked knowingly at Sarah, whose face looked as if a smile was an expression she was unused to wearing. 

“Yeah, well, I could do with a big change,” she rasped. “I'll be glad to get away from there.”

“May I ask what you did before you decided to run a bar in the middle of nowhere?” Clyde's tone was not unkind, but he hadn't intended to speak at all. Alas, the impulse to get the truth out in the open was proving irresistible. 

“FBI agent, financial crimes division.”

“Big change,” he mused, trying desperately to mask his utter panic. 

She fixed him with a penetrating gaze, and it was a real challenge not to squirm.

“Sometimes,” she began carefully, her eyes never releasing his, “you find out that the ones who are supposed to be the victims are more corrupt and complicit than the ones you're investigating.”

Tracie's eyes resembled ping pong balls bouncing between buyer and seller, a fly on the wall where a deeper conversation she was never meant to be party to was taking place. 

Clyde swallowed audibly. _ Message received. _

“Well,” he ventured, as his caution slowly ebbed in the wake of his reprieve, “folks around here might be slow to warm up to strangers, but we have our pride, and one of the things we're proud of is that we all look out for each other. Once you're ours, you're ours.”

“That's very true,” Tracie nodded enthusiastically, eager to steer the conversation to a more comfortable place. “Why, just last year when Joanie's mama Mary Jo _ got cancer-- _ ” she whispered the last words like they were foul language-- “everyone in town took turns cooking them casseroles and making sure she got to her appointments. Mellie even did the hair for Mary Jo's wig when she had _ chemo.” _

Tracie was off to the races with local gossip, and Clyde let it wash over him, while Sarah attentively absorbed every word. Better her than him, he thought.

* * *

It was getting late in the afternoon, the sun slanting deep shadows over the landscape, when Clyde flipped open his phone and dialled Rey’s mobile.

“I was wondering when I might hear from you!” Rey smiled into the phone, relief shading her voice.

“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” Clyde tutted, trying to reflect in his tone the sunlight that her voice showered on him.

“Of course not,” she grinned. “I’ve missed you this week.”

“Me too, darlin’.” _ God, _how he ached to tell her she wouldn’t have to miss him much longer! Still, Mellie and them had insisted that she would adore a surprise visit, and when it came to her happiness versus his relief… well.

“What have you been up to?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from that topic.

“Oh, you know, I’ve been beading bracelets and necklaces, hanging out with my brother, watching movies and eating takeaway or cooking. I’m not great at the cooking part, but I’m getting better!” she beamed proudly, all enthusiasm.

“I’d love for you to make me something next time I see you,” he said, his tone yearning and wistful.

“You bet I will!” she nodded firmly. “So what about you?”

“Oh… you know, end of the year stuff, with the bar… New Year’s coming up.”

“Big night for you, huh?”

“Can be. Lots of folks prefer to let someone else do the pouring.”

“Did you get your packet yet?” she asked brightly, clearly excited for him to receive it.

“I did,” he smiled, “but I haven’t opened it yet. I thought maybe we’d wait until we could talk on Christmas to open them.”

He was lying like a cheap rug, but he ignored the pang in his chest. He’d be there soon, within a few days, and she would be in his arms. She’d forgive him, once she could hold and kiss him, he knew. Not that he hadn’t received the package; he had, and he hadn’t opened it. It was presently packed in his luggage.

“Oh! Yes, I would like that!”

“How’s your family?”

“Mum and Dad got back from Fiji on Saturday, and they’re both doing well. Poe managed, by some kind of miracle, to get Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off of work, so we’ll all be home this year.” She paused, then asked, “Can I tell you something, without you thinking I’m mad?”

“Yeah,” he said, frowning. “What’s up?”

“Finn and Poe are plotting something, I just know it! They get all… conspiratorial… sometimes, when they think I’m not paying attention.”

Clyde started to sweat.

“Huh,” he offered noncommittally. “What would they have to conspire about?”

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “It’s driving me spare!”

“Seems to me,” Clyde reached, desperate for cover, “that you ought to just ignore them. Half the reason an older brother does _ anything _ is to drive his little sister crazy.”

He could almost see her unamused glare. 

“Speaking as the voice of experience, are we?”

“Absolutely,” he doubled down, leaning hard into his credit as an older brother with a younger sister to carry it off.

“Well,” she began, mockingly offended, “take a word of advice from me as a little sister with a big brother: we are awfully good at getting revenge!”

“I’m looking forward to it, darlin’,” he teased, and she sputtered. “I’ve got to go, sweetheart.”

She sighed.

“I can’t wait to see you again, love.”

“Talk to you Sunday.”

“Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Clyde hung up the phone, feeling the stress of keeping so many secrets so close to the surface dragging him down, down. Lightning ran through his veins in the next moment, though, a realization breaking his chains and leaving him weightless: _ the next time he spoke to her, it would be face-to-face. _

If Clyde fantasized about what might happen when that took place, and about the physical comfort they might give one another once they did see each other, it was as much as could be expected from a man who was as deeply in love as he was.

* * *

The next evening, a sign reading ‘Closed for private event; re-opening on 12/21’ hung on the door to the bar. Clyde invited his family, their erstwhile-partners in crime, and some of the best regulars to a private Christmas party where Clyde would pour his last shots and Sarah would pour her first as the new owner. There was a table stacked sky high with wrapped boxes (most of which had Sadie’s name on them), and Jimmy was one of the first to arrive, their entrance announced by Sadie’s delighted squeal.

“Uncle Clyde!” she shrieked, overjoyed at seeing him for the first time since the Christmas before, and she leapt into his kneeling embrace.

“How are you doin’, princess?” he asked, chuckling as she scrambled around to get up on his shoulders. “You’ve grown up a bit!” he laughed as he stood and she ducked, clasping his forehead, before rising gingerly to make sure she wouldn’t bonk her head on the ceiling.

“Uncle Clyde, I can tickle the ceiling now, watch!” She reached up, wiggling her fingers, and Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Sadie Bug, I do believe you’re the tallest girl I’ve ever met,” he teased, whipping out his phone to take a picture of her, arms upstretched. “C’mon down from there, darlin’.”

“Uncle Clyde, do I have to?” she pouted down at her uncle, and his heart squeezed. 

“‘Fraid so, princess. Your daddy makes the rules. Tell you what, though, when you get down I’ll fix you something special to drink and maybe you and Aunt Mellie can shoot some pool, okay?”

“Okay!” she enthused, practically leaping off of Clyde’s shoulders into Jimmy’s arms.

He smiled as she ran around to where Mellie was sitting and clambered up on a barstool, kissing her aunt hello.

Clyde poured her a Shirley Temple, popping a pair of cherries in the top and smiling all the while. Sadie made a skeptical face, then took a sip, and her eyes got big.

“What is it?”

“A special drink called a Sadie June.”

Sadie gave him the look that only a skeptical nine-year-old can muster.

“Is not!” 

“Is too,” Clyde affirmed, his face betraying nothing. “You want me to find my big bar book and show you?”

She giggled, and took another sip.

“You made that up, Uncle Clyde,” she grinned.

“Little girls grow up and stop believing their uncles,” he sighed, shaking his head. “What’s happening to the world?”

“Can you give me one of those, all grown up?” Mellie asked, pointing at Sadie’s drink.

“One Drew Barrymore, coming up,” he nodded, reaching for the vanilla vodka.

Once the two girls had headed toward the pool table, Jimmy sat down on his usual stool, and fixed his brother with a look.

“So what’s the occasion?”

Clyde shrugged. 

“Christmas? Well, that and I sold the bar. I’m flying to London on Friday.”

“Do what now?!”

“I sold the bar,” Clyde repeated slowly, as if he were explaining it to a child, “and I’m going to England to visit Rey for a while. You moved on with your life, I’m moving on with mine.” 

Jimmy looked like a stunned bull. 

“What’s gonna happen to the trailer?” he eventually asked, frowning thoughtfully.

“Well, it’s _ our _ trailer, like you said.” Clyde’s lip twitched, and Jimmy looked unamused. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Holy shit,” Jimmy breathed, putting two and two together. “You ain’t coming back, are you?”

“Probably not,” Clyde agreed. “You might want to get your own passport in order, and one for Sadie too.”

Jimmy’s face scrunched as if Clyde had sprouted a second head.

“What the hell would I need a passport for?”

“If everything goes right, the wedding.”

Jimmy nearly fell off of his barstool, just in time for Sarah to walk in. She regarded Clyde with a skeptical raised eyebrow, tipping her head toward Jimmy before walking back behind the bar.

“Pouring heavy already?”

Clyde chuckled.

“Nah, just sharing the news with my brother.” If Jimmy figured out who Sarah was, Clyde mused, that would make for interesting fireworks that he would probably be able to see from the other side of the Atlantic. “Jimmy, this is Sarah Grayson, the new owner of Duck Tape. Sarah, this is Jimmy Logan, my brother.”

Jimmy extended his hand to Sarah, and Clyde could see Jimmy give Sarah a once-over, his dating Sylvia notwithstanding. Clyde rolled his eyes. Some things never changed. 

Sarah grasped his proffered hand, giving him a firm handshake and a disinterested, if pleasant, nod before heading into the back office to drop off her things. Jimmy stared after her, blinking in confusion, as he shook out his hand. Some things never changed, Clyde mused, but others most certainly did--and in unexpectedly delightful ways.


	16. Just Like Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde heads to London and into the arms of his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: This part of Chapter 16 has been posted separately because it contains explicit sexual content. If you are not of legal age/legal standing to consume explicit sexual content, or prefer not to, please do not proceed. This chapter can be skipped with minimal adverse effects; important points appear in the end notes. By reading the following, you affirm that you understand the warning and are of legal age/standing to read sexually explicit content.
> 
> Chapter-specific CW: fantasies about starting a family, implied male masturbation, kissing, nudity, heavy petting, vaginal play, vaginal sex

The keys had been turned over, all phone numbers and passwords and other data handed off, and goodbyes said. Mellie had been ready to turn in surprisingly early, and had offered to take Sadie to her house for a girls-only slumber party, She’d left behind a disgruntled-looking Joe Bang, who swore off the Logan clan for good and flipped Jimmy the bird on his way out of the bar, his confused but loyal brothers trailing in his wake. No one, as far as Clyde could tell, had been sorry to see the brothers Bang go. Jimmy had seized the opportunity to spend the night with Sylvia, promising to bring his truck to the trailer the next day so Clyde’s things could get stored. 

So it happened that Clyde woke up on the twenty-first earlier than was his usual wont. Sheer excitement, however, was better than coffee for getting him up and moving. He was a man with nowhere to be and very little in the way of obligation; packing what few belongings he had, cleaning up the trailer, and hauling anything he wasn’t taking to the self-storage was all he had left to do. Granted, he could just sell the furniture, but he couldn’t bring himself to sell something that Rey had made for him with her own hands. He could give it to Mellie, which is what he would likely do if everything went the way that he hoped it would; putting it in storage gave him time--and a backup plan; after all, what if Rey wanted to come back to the States? He’d buy her a house, like a man was supposed to do for his wife, and they’d move what he had, and then she could fill it with all the furniture she cared to make and as many children as she wanted. 

What an enticing train of thought. 

It was early afternoon before he could peel himself out of bed and take a shower. While under the water, he made a mental checklist: today, he’d need to wash everything, pack his clothes, toiletries, and footlocker, box up his books to give to the goodwill or store, call the self-storage, and pull his furniture and the dishes into the living room to be taken out. Tonight, he’d head over to Mellie’s and stay in her guest room until he left on Friday. Tomorrow, he’d come back over, clean out the fridge, and make sure the place could be empty for however long that might be. After that, the trailer was Jimmy’s problem. Oh, and he’d need to have the post office hold his mail, speaking of Jimmy’s problems.

Someone had once said that war was long periods of boredom, punctuated by moments of sheer terror. This, in Clyde’s opinion, was one of the many reasons why most soldiers developed the ability to fall asleep nearly anywhere almost instantaneously, largely unbothered by the stresses around them. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Clyde slept for two days straight--after all, he’d had a list of things to do--but it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that it was the way that he’d passed most of the waiting. He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for it or cursing it as he sat in the airport on the afternoon of the twenty-third, his goodbyes and abundant thank-yous to Mellie spoken, waiting for his boarding call and feeling edgier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Occasionally, he turned his ticket end over end in his fingers, his eyes obsessively confirming the details of the boarding pass as if the ticket would magically change. At times, the ticket would pause its rotation as he wondered whether he ought to feel any kind of way about the four-digit price tag. When he did feel something about it, it was pride and a sense of determination; he was willing to do whatever it took to be in Rey's life, to be by her side for as long as she wanted him there. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentleman, this is your pre-boarding call for Flight 8517, non-stop service to Atlanta. At this time, we invite anyone with pre-boarding status on their ticket, including our First Class passengers, those with disabilities, or those who may need a little extra time to get settled onboard, to approach the gate for pre-boarding.”

Clyde looked at his ticket, stamped with PRE-BOARD, grabbed his suitcase, and rolled down the gangway. It was nearly thirteen hours later when he rolled into UK Customs at Heathrow, and a carefully non-descript woman in a blue uniform and cap gestured for his passport, flipping it open with a vacant expression. 

“Name?”

“Clyde Logan.”

“Purpose of your visit to the UK?”

Clyde froze. How much did they need to know?

“Vacation?”

“Return ticket, please.”

Clyde handed over his boarding pass. She scanned it and handed his pass and his passport back with a listlessness that only a lifetime spent in the civil service could bring, and he realized with a semi-hysterical grin that he could have said he had come there to start the apocalypse and she would never have noticed. He had to give Pratchett and Gaiman credit; they’d written a perfect likeness.

“Welcome to the UK, next?” she looked past Clyde, waving him through.

He made his way down the corridor, passing the duty-free shop, and emerged into a lobby next to a currency exchange.

“Logan!”

He spun around to see Poe Dameron, his complexion still bronzed despite the snow, waving and grinning, standing next to a man who must have been Finn Storm. Clyde raised his hand in greeting and walked over to meet them. Dameron immediately engulfed Clyde in a hug that would have been bone-crushing to a smaller man, while the other, slightly taller and rather darker man tried not to gape at Clyde’s gigantic stature. Poe simply laughed.

“I told you he was tall, babe!”

“You said ‘tall,’” the darker man insisted, “not ‘rudely large!’ The man must be part redwood tree!”

Clyde blinked, trying to work out whether ‘rudely large’ was a compliment, and once the decidedly enthusiastic Poe had released him, the second man, who must have been Finn, offered his hand.

“Finn Storm,” he confirmed. Finn’s dark eyes were fixed on Clyde’s face, which Clyde could only presume was Finn’s way of not staring at his prosthesis. He was grateful, because he was already feeling on the back foot, and had something potentially embarrassing to say.

“Clyde Logan,” he said, shaking Finn’s hand, then firming his grip ever-so-slightly--not to constrict, or crush, but to make sure he had Finn’s complete attention. (The gesture was honestly unnecessary; everything about Clyde screamed ‘brooding mountain,’ and the other man was riveted.) “Thank you, and your family, for taking care of Rey. She was lucky to have you, and I’m grateful.”

He’d meant to say more, but his throat started to constrict, and he risked making an even bigger fool of himself if he uttered another syllable. Finn’s cheeks turned a dusty rose color.

“She’s my best friend,” Finn protested. “Of course we did.”

Clyde merely nodded, releasing Finn’s hand, and Poe stood between them, clapping Clyde on the back while taking his husband’s hand, and the trio headed for the parking lot.

“So, here’s the plan,” Poe explained, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Rey went shopping with Esther last night, and she stayed there last night to help decorate the tree this morning. We told her we’re going gift shopping this morning, and she’s agreed to come help us wrap gifts once we’re home. 

“Now, when we get back to our place, you can drop your stuff in the guest room closet--”

At this, Finn elbowed him. 

“Nah, if Rey gets in the closet, the jig is up. Best to stash it in our closet for now.”

“Okay, okay, fine, wherever, but the _ point--” _ he gave Finn a lovingly exasperated eyebrow-- “is that we have a couple of boxes that we’re going to tape together and wrap up. They’ll fit against the wall, and _ that _ is where _ you’re _going to be,” he grinned, pointing at Clyde.

“You’re… going to wrap me up in a box?”

“You’re the best present she’s going to get this year, buddy,” Poe argued.

“She has no idea you’re here,” Finn agreed. 

“You know she suspects you two of ‘plotting something,’” Clyde insisted, using a serious tilt of the head as a substitute for finger quotes. “I had to cover for you on the phone Monday. I believe she called the two of you ‘conspiratorial,’” he finished, a skeptical lilt to his voice.

“Even so, mate,” Finn insisted, shaking his head, “she has no reason to suspect _ this, _not in a hundred years.”

Clyde smiled.

“Good.”

* * *

“Oh, yes, here she comes! Get in there!”

Clyde darted to the wall, and Poe and Finn slid the box flush with the wall, giggling and whacking one another to shut each other up, then breaking into more giggles. Clyde rolled his eyes; the jig was going to be up in no time if they couldn’t hold it together. He looked around his dark hiding place; Clyde wasn’t exactly a claustrophobic man, though life had made him painfully aware of his own size. However, standing behind three sides of two boxes taped together, then papered over, was a new experience in confinement for him.

“Hi guys!” Rey chirped, and Clyde bit back a whimper as his heart melted. “Where are the boxes?” 

There was a beat of silence, then Rey gave a wordless noise of surprise. 

“Wait, what’s that?”

Footsteps approached, and his heart began to race.

“Merry Christmas, Peanut,” Finn grinned.

“What?!” Rey sputtered. “Are you--are you _ recording _ this, Poe?!”

“Go on,” Poe said, sounding like he was practically coming out of his skin. “Open it!”

“Is it--” 

Clyde heard her fingers run along the paper, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to clench his fist and be silent and still.

“Does it need to stand there or can I lay it down on the floor?”

“Go on,” Poe repeated. “Lay it on the floor.”

Daylight broke into the darkness, and Rey froze, the hollow cardboard thudding dully on the carpet and his heart thudding against his ribcage as her hands flew to her mouth.

“Hi, darlin’,” he managed to rasp, her form beginning to blur for the tears that sprang to his eyes.

“Clyde!” she shrieked at last, and she leapt for him. He caught her and managed not to brain himself against the wall, though it was a near thing. Their lips met and his head spun with joy, desire, and lack of oxygen.

“Stop,” Finn hissed at Poe, gesturing frantically for him to turn off his camera. Poe simply smirked.

“I promised Mellie a video, she’s getting a video,” he said, matter-of-fact.

Clyde broke the kiss on hearing Mellie’s name, and Rey climbed down from his hold.

“I might have known,” he sighed, but he was too ecstatic to think about it any more than that. He turned back to Rey, cradling the back of her head in his hand, and gave her another tender kiss. His forehead leaned forward to touch hers.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’. I love you.”

She giggled through her sniffles.

“I love you too, Clyde Logan.” She kissed him, a brief touching of lips, then smiled, besotted. “Happiest Christmas I ever had.”

A tide of desire crashed over Clyde, and the look in Rey’s eyes suggested that she was feeling the same.

Someone cleared his throat.

“Has Mum started making dinner yet?”

“Hmm?” Rey fought her way back to reality. “Oh... John still hadn’t come by with the goat yet, but she said she was going to get started on the rice for tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Finn nodded. “We’ll... go see if we can be of any help. When do you think you’ll be over?”

Rey’s eyes narrowed, shifting from side to side like she couldn’t quite see how this added up.

“Did Mum and Dad know?!”

“Just me and Finn,” Poe shook his head. “You have to bring him to dinner though, so they can meet him. We’ll explain before you get there.”

Clyde swallowed; it wasn’t that he hadn’t planned on meeting Rey’s family, but now that point was upon him, and he was decidedly anxious to make a good impression.

“I know Mum's busy cooking for tomorrow, so if she hasn't started a dinner for tonight, let me know, so we can bring takeaway,” Rey instructed. 

“Yeah, okay, sounds good,” Finn mumbled absently, while trying to gracefully shove his moon-eyed husband into his coat and out the door.

Once the other pair had gone, Clyde stood there for a long moment, reveling in the feel of her in his arms once more. There was no way he could leave her ever again, no matter what it took. A tranquil silence stretched for several minutes, broken only when Rey’s face suddenly peered up at his, her eyes narrowed as she sought something. Then, her thumbs were wiping his cheeks, and she smiled, radiant in their shared relief, her own eyes shining. 

He kissed her, again and again, drinking in the nectar of her presence after what felt like a lifetime wandering the wastes of loneliness and solitude. He expected to feel desire course through him like lightning after their separation, to be wild, urgent. Instead of a wildfire, though, his need felt like a slow, hot wind, like coals banked to keep a fire burning forever. He ran his hand along her back, pressing her impossibly closer to him.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she murmured between kisses. “Is this a dream?”

“No, darlin’, it’s real. I’m here, for as long as you want me.”

Her smile was so broad it felt like her cheeks were going to split.

“Well then I hope you packed a big bag,” she teased, “because I might never let you leave!”

“Oh no,” he deadpanned, “anything but that.” 

He kissed her again, his lips joining his soul to hers.

“You know,” he breathed, his voice pitched so low and gentle that it liquefied Rey’s knees, “it’s really hard to kidnap the willing.”

Rey’s breath nearly hitched, and she snaked a hand around the back of his head. 

“So, how about I not-kidnap you to the guest room?” she purred.

The expression that lit up his face was pure sin.

“Do we have anywhere to be before dinner?”

Rey nearly choked, and her eyes went wide.

“Before di-- _ Clyde, _ it’s not quite _ noon! _”

“Darlin’, I want to take my time with you,” he rumbled. “I want to take it slow.”

“Alright,” she breathed, angling her lips toward his for another kiss. Once they broke apart, he cradled her face in his hand, and kissed her forehead, and she led him back to the guest room, backing him inside the door with kisses until his knees connected to the bedside and he sank down as she straddled his lap. The bed was thankfully a double, he noted out of the corner of his eye, and he wrapped his arm around her waist as his free hand roved up and down her thigh, squeezing and stroking her delightfully firm backside.

They sat in that position for some time, kissing and touching, Clyde holding her fast while laving kisses up and down her neck and shoulder. Rey groaned with the effort of self-restraint, taking it out on Clyde’s ears by licking and nibbling, breathing and whispering filth to him. He shuddered, gooseflesh erupting on his head, neck, shoulders, and arms, and allowed her to peel open his button-down to the cotton t-shirt underneath.

Clyde basked in the feeling of her hands running up and down his chest, shivering as she reached down toward his belt, and both sighing and grinning when she abruptly reversed course to tease him. Catching her eye, his flicked down to the prosthesis, and she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck as he busied himself removing it, laying it to one side.

Once that was done, Rey laser-focused her attention on his left arm, touching with a feather-light stroke, trailing kisses in the wake of her fingers. She nipped at his bicep, and he went weak for a moment before attaching himself to her shoulder, lips and teeth marking her as loved.

“Babydoll,” he rasped, nuzzling the spot right underneath her ear, “I received some very specific instructions that I promised to follow when I saw you again; I need you to get naked and under those covers. You do that for me?”

Rey stood, a devious smile painting her swollen lips, and she raised an eyebrow.

Uh oh.

Clyde could do nothing but grip the mattress and swear up a blue streak as she stared him right in his eyes and slowly, teasingly stripped her clothing, one bit at a time. 

He groaned. Of _ course _ Rey was wearing layers. 

He was going to have a coronary, and die the happiest man on earth.

Painfully slowly, Rey’s body was revealed to him, every inch of creamy, beautiful skin with its dusting of freckles and soft thatches of hair, and then hidden again as she dove under the covers to escape December’s chill. Clyde’s mouth watered, remembering the taste of her and craving it. He stood, kicking off his boots and shucking his clothes down to his boxers like they were on fire, then joined her under the covers, a man dying of thirst and crawling toward an oasis.

He kissed her belly, smooth and soft skin erupting into goosebumps that stood out along the ridges at the crests of her hips. His kisses trailed down to the tops of her thighs, where he reversed course, his hand and lips climbing, until he was kissing her lips and fondling each breast alternately. 

Cupping a breast in one palm, he slipped down and ran his tongue over the dusky nipple. Rey writhed beneath him, causing his breath to hitch as she rubbed against his cock, already rock-solid and straining against his boxers. He moaned, his lips attaching to her breast as he sucked and licked, rolling one nipple against his tongue while his fingers gently squeezed and tugged the other. The noises she made were delightful, her swearing dragging deep groans from him and driving his hips to buck against hers.

Occasionally alternating hand and tongue on each breast (the positioning got a bit awkward at times, but by god, this was her fantasy and he was going to make sure she got it), his hips shifted, one knee wandering north to make sure her reality was measuring up to her dreams. As soon as his thigh was positioned against her, she flexed her hips, seeking friction, and her slick, soaked entrance was a dream all its own. 

He kissed her, giving her red and swollen tits a well-earned break, but before he could continue, she stopped him, nails digging in.

“Clyde, w-wait,” Rey panted, breathless, and he froze.

“You're wonderful, working so hard to give me what I wrote about, and it feels amazing but... I need you inside me _ right now.” _

“Whatever you need, babydoll,” he replied, his voice heavy with desire. He raised up on his knees. 

“Care to do the honors?” He gestured to his boxers.

Her fingers were wild, her look borderline feral as she tore them off, eyeing him hungrily, like she had to devour him before he was taken from her.

This wouldn't do at all.

“Darlin’,” he repeated, “I want to take my time with you. I'm not going anywhere.”

He laid down on his side, gesturing for her to follow.

“Can you lay down on your side for me? Face that way.” He indicated the opposite wall.

She gave him a quizzical look, but did as he'd asked. He reached down, gently teasing her open a little wider, then lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Let me take my time with you, Rey. This alright?”

She nodded, and he began to press his way inside, to her vocal appreciation. She was nothing short of exquisite, every inch of her a heaven that was even better than his memory. His fingers rubbed against her clit, determined to thoroughly pleasure her as he continued to slide against her wet heat.

“I'm here, darlin’,” he crooned, as he began to slowly, gently rock out and in. “I'm not going anywhere without you, ever again.”

It took every shred of self-restraint not to give in and rut into her, but this had its own rewards, he decided, as he felt himself hardening even further and filling her completely, her textures and contours sublime against his sensitive engorgement. He kissed and then sucked on the place where her neck and shoulder joined, and she shivered, moaning and scratching against his thigh. 

“Is this good, babydoll?” he prompted, his thrusts and his voice gentle. “You like letting me take care of you?”

She whimpered, but nodded enthusiastically, and he kissed her neck, his right arm wrapped around her body, securing her, as his fingers teased her nipples, or came up to run gently through her hair.

Clyde was almost dazed, thoroughly drunk on Rey's body, when her hitched, gently crescendo-ing _ ah! ah! _spurred him into more vigorous action; his hand slid down her body to tease her clit directly, and he picked up his own pace a little.

“M- more, please--_ oh god-- _m--Clyde--!”

He flattened his palm against her, pulling her flush against him, and went at it harder, feeling her body quake at the end of each thrust, nipping at her shoulder blades and neck.

Rey wailed, her nails scrabbling for purchase, and, finding none, fisting in the pillow instead.

Clyde's guttural moan heralded his own completion, and he kept her close, kissing up and down her neck and back. 

A noise. He froze. Was that…?

“Rey? Babydoll, are you alright?”

She sniffled again, almost a muffled sob, then burst into tears.

Clyde withdrew completely, holding his arms open, and Rey turned, burying her face in his chest.

“I--” she choked, trying to get the words out. “I'm s-so--_ happy! _ I missed you so much!”

Clyde's own heart cracked.

“Oh, darlin’, I meant what I said when I told you I'm never leaving you again. I'm yours for as long as you want me.”

Rey's arms wound around him, holding him tightly as the flood of her overwhelm and anxiety seemed to instantly evaporate.

“Mine,” she purred, nuzzling his chest. “Mine forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot spoilers: Clyde arrives in London, and Finn and Poe pick him up from the airport, then take him back to theirs and wrap him up in a box. They ask Rey to come home and surprise her with Clyde. The guys leave to give them some alone time, and they take full advantage, Clyde wanting to make tender love to Rey to reassure her of his presence and intentions.
> 
> CW-related important details:  
Clyde masturbates to fantasies about Rey becoming his wife and having theoretical children; this is only obliquely mentioned, but it may bother those who are sensitive to mentions of children (Clyde doesn't specify whether any children of theirs would be born to them versus adopted by them, so you may interpret it in whichever way you choose; for this reason, I did not tag for pregnancy). Rey is surprised by Clyde's arrival in London, and they have sex. Clyde attempts to pull off the fantasy that Rey wrote to him in her letter (see [_Feeding a Fever_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22511113)), but she prefers penetrative sex, so that is what they do. Once again, while protection is neither used nor discussed, there's no need to be concerned or excited about any potential consequences; I'm waving my magic author wand and saying that it's not going to be an issue in this fic.


	17. Thank God It's Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story draws to its promised happy end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific CW: None

One contented and cozy nap later, the lovers woke to the sound of Rey's mobile.

“Nngh?” Rey answered.

“Hey Peanut!” Finn's voice was relaxed, so apparently whatever chat they’d had had gone well--or he and Poe were availing themselves of the Christmas spirit already. “What time will you two be joining us?”

“Hey, B-F,” Rey sighed contentedly. “Did you tell Mum and Dad? What do they want for dinner?”

“Well… we did, and it went alright, but Mum declared her house unfit for company until tomorrow and is stress-baking about five dozen biscuits at the moment.”

“Oh no, not Christmas biscuits, whatever shall we do,” Rey deadpanned. “Well, should we meet you all there or wherever it is we’re going to eat?”

“You ever try eating out on Christmas Eve?”

“Right,” she grinned. “Well, either she can choose or you can: Italian, Greek, or suya?”

Finn cackled, a decidedly unnerving sound--he could be quite wicked when he wanted to be.

“No, Dad and Poe and I are taking him for suya after Christmas. Male bonding exercise, to welcome him into the family.” Finn’s voice was all deviousness, and Rey couldn’t help a wince, remembering both her own experiences and Poe’s ‘trial by fire’ when he proposed to Finn. She sighed, fondly exasperated. 

“What would I do without you guys to protect me with ghost peppers, B-F?” Clyde, who was sitting up beside her in bed, tilted his head quizzically, but she shook her head and mouthed ‘later,’ running her fingertips along his arm absently. 

“How does Gloria sound? Clyde and I can get there early to put us on the walk-in list.”

Finn hummed his approval.

“Italian food is nice, neutral territory,” he grinned.

“See you sometime between 5 and 5:30? And tell Mum she doesn’t need fancy dress.”

Finn’s look of incredulity could be felt over the phone.

“You and I both know she’ll never agree.”

“It was worth a try,” Rey pouted. “Realistically, though, I guess I’m going to dress up a little. Not every day I get to go out to dinner with my boyfriend!”

Finn made a mock gagging noise.

“Right, well, you get to it, Peanut. See you around five!”

“See you!”

Clyde nuzzled her neck, pressing gentle kisses to the curve of her shoulder.

“What is this I hear about you dressing up?”

“How would you feel about some shopping?” 

He groaned, becoming dead weight but for the arm that held her fast. Rey was having none of it, though; she angled her lips up for a kiss, but gently tweaked his nipple instead. He released her with a yelp, and once she’d stood up, she leaned over to kiss it better.

“Tricky little vixen,” he grumbled, rubbing his chest as he pouted. “It’s not as if I’m ever really gonna tell you ‘no.’”

She stuck out her lower lip, then kissed him again.

“Let’s get cleaned up, we have lots to do!”

* * *

It was five in the evening, and Rey and Clyde were standing out front of Gloria. She had on a mouth-watering evergreen knee-length sleeveless dress with a high mandarin collar, sensible black flats, and a well-loved black moto jacket. He was in his favorite black-and-green plaid flannel button-down, and black slacks purchased for the occasion; Clyde had only worn a suit once in his life, for Jimmy’s wedding, and that had been a rental. (He had worn military dress to bury Daddy and Mama, despite his mixed feelings, since they’d been so proud of their soldier son.) Poe and Finn arrived, smartly dressed, and just behind them was an older couple that must have been Finn’s parents.

Rey squeezed Clyde’s arm and waved.

“Hello!” she chirped, her smile beaming like the sun.

“He doesn’t clean up half bad, does he?” Poe grinned appreciatively and elbowed Finn, who rolled his eyes.

After everyone had hugged Rey, she pulled Clyde over to meet her parents.

“Mum, Dad, this is Clyde Logan, the soldier I used to write to and who I went to America to visit. Clyde, this is Francis and Esther Storm, my parents.”

Clyde extended his hand to Esther first, then froze, suddenly unsure whether it was considered polite to shake a woman’s hand. He settled for turning her hand knuckles up, and inclining his head over it.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Esther  _ giggled, _ which was not what Clyde had expected at all. Had he erred? He offered his hand to Francis, and shook it.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“What a polite man, if a touch old-fashioned!” Esther teased Rey, who blushed, but clung to him fiercely. 

“We hear you’re quite taken with our Rey,” Esther offered genially.

“Yes’m, you might say I am,” he replied, turning to Rey with a soft expression, and missing Francis’ scrutinizing look.

“Good evening, how many, please?” The hostess wore a nametag reading ‘Gianna,’ and her accent was pleasant and, at least to Clyde’s ears, sounded genuinely Italian.

“Six,” Rey answered instantly. She was always ready to eat.

“This way please, miss.”

They were led to a u-shaped couch and tables inside a cozy and warm restaurant space, twinkling strings of lights artfully draped and Dean Martin Christmas music playing on the speakers. Francis helped Esther onto the couch, then sat beside her on the end, and before Clyde could move, Finn and Poe had taken the other outside arm of the couch, leaving Rey and Clyde to sit in the hotseat, so to speak--not that there wasn’t a way out between the two tables, but they were definitely the center of attention. In the end, Rey sat next to her brother, and Clyde was sandwiched between Rey and Esther.

A young, kitted-out waiter came to the table, offering his name (Marco), menus, and a smile. Clyde was uncertain which was more intimidating: small talk with Rey’s parents or a menu that was predominantly in Italian. He was staring at the cocktail menu--this, at least, he had a fighting chance of being able to understand--when Esther’s voice interrupted him. 

“Clyde, Rey tells us that you’re a barman.”

“That’s what I’ve done since I got home, ma’am.”

“And it pays well?” Francis asked, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Rey’s eyes widened, in a pleading way, behind Clyde’s back; the immediate turn of the conversation to Clyde’s finances was deeply uncomfortable for her. Francis pointedly ignored her, and she sighed in embarrassment.

“Well enough, I believe, sir,” Clyde nodded. “Leastways, I was able to pay off the loan for the bar in five years. But then, I sent most of my military pay and bonuses home, and Mama, God rest her soul, saved them up. When the old bar on the 17 went under, I got it at a rock-bottom price, so there wasn’t much of a loan to pay off.”

Francis’ brows shot up, and he took another sip of water.

“Buona sera, amici! What can I bring for your table?” Marco had returned, giving Clyde and Rey a momentary reprieve from the crosshairs.

Poe amped up his smile to megawatts, and ordered one of every appetizer for the table, with a sly wink at Clyde. Clyde’s lip curled up in the tiniest of smiles back and he found himself relieved, as he had wanted to do that, and had every intention of footing the entire bill--the least he could do for blowing into town on Christmas Eve and possibly upending the family’s plans--but he was very aware of being perceived as both a brash American and a total spendthrift who was trying to buy his way into the Storms’ good opinion.

While the Storms learned about Clyde, he found out quite a bit about them as well. Francis was a retired Anglican minister who had met his wife when she was a nightclub singer in Lagos and he was a seminary student. Almost immediately after his completion of seminary school, he had received an offer from a parish in Peckham, and so the two had married on a Saturday, he had been ordained on the following day, and the new couple moved halfway across the world to start their family. Finn had been born a couple of years later, and Esther had cemented herself in the community by her active work as the vicar’s wife, organizing neighborhood suppers, spearheading local charity events, and helping immigrants from Nigeria and beyond find a sense of belonging in the parish.

“So, uh, should I be addressing you as Reverend, instead of Mister?” Clyde asked.

Francis smiled.

“Either is acceptable, but I would prefer that you call me Francis.”

Clyde smiled back, and Rey sagged against him in relief before sitting up to take a sip of her cocktail.

“Rey told me y’all just took a trip to Fiji; how was it?”

Esther perked up, producing her phone and opening the camera roll.

“It was lovely, and so restful! We have a friend who runs a hotel down there, you see…”

Vacation pictures were oohed and aahed over, dinner was ordered, dessert followed, and the theoretical bill was argued between the men until Esther calmly asserted that while she was only overjoyed that Clyde had come into town, and did not consider his arrival to be any inconvenience whatsoever that needed to be repaid or smoothed over, she had no objection to Clyde’s picking up the tab for her part of the bill. No one was willing to argue the point after that.

Three hundred pounds and change lighter, Clyde and Rey stepped out of the restaurant into the brisk December night air, Poe and Finn and the Storms just behind them.

“Finn, Poe, we’ll see you at church in the morning?”

“Of course, Dad.” Finn leaned in to hug his parents, followed by Poe.

“Dinner is at two o’clock, as usual?” Rey asked.

Esther nodded and Poe snorted, while Francis smiled indulgently.

“Never change, Peanut,” Finn sighed in mock exasperation.

“Wouldn't dream of it, B-F.”

* * *

Clyde was up and washing his hands after emptying his bladder the next morning when he heard a rapid knock on the guest room door.

“Rey!” It was Finn. Clyde froze, listening as the bedroom door opened. “Rey! Father Christmas came!”

Clyde blinked. What? There was no way that Finn still believed in Santa.

A muffled murmur from Rey was followed quickly by shrieks of laughter and the sounds of Poe’s voice practically bouncing up and down--or Poe was in fact bouncing up and down, shouting, “Father Christmas came, Rey!”

He shut the water off and hurried out the door in time to see Poe, still pajama-clad, bouncing on Rey’s bed like an enthusiastic child. Rey was laughing so hard she was clutching her sides and panting, and Clyde stood in the doorway, bewildered by what he was witnessing. Finn was red-faced from laughter, and Poe had the audacity to stand up and wink at him!  Upon reflection, however, that level of shamelessness might just be par for the course for a grown man whose pajamas were patterned with corgis in Santa hats.

“Merry Christmas, Logan!”

He blinked, then returned a nod.

“Merry Christmas, Poe,” he replied cautiously.

“You two lovebirds want some omelettes?”

“Mm-hmm,” Rey smiled, sitting up. “Sounds lovely, Poe.”

The married couple left the guest room, and Clyde edged toward Rey carefully, watching her for signs of distress.

“Uh... what was all that about?”

“When we were younger, Finn would always wake me up on Christmas morning like that,” Rey, who had finally wiped her eyes clean, explained. “I think this is the first Christmas since he and Poe got married that we’ve woken up in the same house at Christmas. Now Poe,” she waved airily, “Poe, I can’t explain. It was brilliant, though.”

Clearly, she hadn’t minded, strange as the whole episode had been.

“They’re, uh…” 

Clyde’s teeth immediately clicked shut when he realized he was about to say something incriminating with respect to family and next Christmas.

“Aren’t they just?” Rey nodded. "What do you want to do after breakfast?"

"Think we could arrange a little walk?"

Rey considered this, her lips pursing.

"Most everything will be closed," she hedged. 

Clyde shrugged. 

"Still plenty to see, and no one I'd rather have show me around  your favorite places."

"With pleasure!" she grinned. "Breakfast first, though."

He smiled, and followed her to the table. The smell of sauteed onions and cheese was heaven, and in short order, each of them had a cup of strong black coffee and a plate of fluffy eggs filled with roasted garlic, vegetables, and cheese, and some toast. Rey clapped her hands.

“This looks delicious!”

“Sure we can’t convince you two to come to service?” Poe winked, gracefully dodging a nudge from Finn.

“You trying to get us to the church already?!” Rey gasped with feigned shock.

Clyde froze with the fork halfway to his mouth, a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.

“Clyde and I have already made plans for a little tour of the highlights,” she continued, tsking.

“Oh? Where are you going to take him?” Finn asked. “Where would even be open?”

“The point isn’t to  _ go in,” _ she chided as if she hadn’t just asked the same question. “The point is to  _ see. _ Just  _ walking _ .”

Clyde took a long drink of coffee, and tried to ignore the sensation of his ears and his metaphorical pocket burning.

* * *

They made a mismatched quartet as they left the flat; Finn and Poe were looking rather dapper in their Christmas best, while Rey and Clyde were decidedly more casual, with jeans, winter boots, and coats.

Carnaby was lively and festive, with colored lights, tinsel, and chintz in the windows of most businesses. The snow crunched underfoot, and there was even a particular smell to Christmas here that was entirely  _ British. _ The pair held hands and strolled down the brightly-lit way.

“So this seems like a really well-heeled part of town,” Clyde ventured.

Rey blinked.

“A what?”

“Rich?” he whispered.

“Oh. Yeah, it is. I could certainly never afford it, and even if I could, I don’t know that I’d want to live in this part of town.”

Clyde paused, surprised.

“Well, why not?”

“Doesn’t make sense to me to spend that kind of money on somewhere to live when there are perfectly respectable places that are less posh.”

He filed that away, and was secretly relieved; this area was bright, busy, and (as he had pointed out) most likely exorbitant.

Their stroll ultimately deposited them at a bus stand, and Rey took out her phone, tapping a quick address into an app to hire a car.

“Where to?”

“You remember the record shop I told you about?”

Clyde nodded for her to continue.

“You want to see it?”

He shrugged his assent, then stood behind her and wrapped her in his arms when she shivered. The ride was short, by Clyde’s standards (given that a person had to go to Charleston for pretty much anything that wasn’t basic groceries or car maintenance), and they stepped out of the car into an area that was, at least in Clyde’s view, a lot more homey and charming.

“So where are we?”

“Tottenham,” Rey replied, something almost defiant sparking in her eye.

“Tot-num?” Clyde attempted, but was taken aback by Rey’s glare. “What’s that look for? Did I mess it up?”

As soon as he made her aware of it, her face relaxed.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking sheepish. “People get judgy about certain places. It’s--” her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper--  _ “working-class _ around here, and stuffy old Brits get a bit tetchy about class.”

He frowned.

“Looks pretty nice where I’m standing,” he objected gently, and she smiled and took his hand.

“Come on.”

They walked down a few streets until they were standing near a plain-front brick building with a large glass window. 

“This was where I got my music education,” she sighed, wistful. “Not much in my childhood was easy, but this was a respite.”

After a few more minutes of reminiscence, Rey shivered again. Clyde nudged her forward.

“Let’s walk. Where to now?”

Rey pulled out her phone.

“I think there’s a Costa machine down this way.”

“Okay,” Clyde nodded, falling into step. “So, what’s a Costa machine?”

“Hot tea and coffee.”

Clyde raised his eyebrows, but otherwise said nothing, watching Rey tap away on her phone. It must have been a text, since she locked the phone and put it back in her pocket after she’d finished.

Ten minutes found them inside a petrol station, standing front of a drink dispensing machine. Rey chose a chai tea, and waited excitedly for it to pour. Clyde decided whatever it served couldn’t possibly be any worse than army coffee and shrugged, dumping a few sugar packets into a cup before punching a button for black coffee. Their drinks paid for, they stepped back outside and had walked a little further down the road when Rey’s phone whistled. Rey picked up her phone and read it, then frowned, and took a sip of her tea. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, that was Kira. I was hoping to meet with her today, but she says she’s gone up the ‘Pool and won’t be back until tomorrow.” She pondered for a moment, draining her teacup. “Let’s go back to Finn’s; I want to change before we head to Mum and Dad’s.”

* * *

Clyde tucked his shirttails into his freshly-ironed black slacks,  wryly amused at having put on nice clothes more in the last 24 hours than in the prior year. He found himself very grateful, indeed, for his general inability to deny Rey something she wanted as he pulled a soft, woolly sweater over his button-down; she had fawned over the luxuriant material in the shop the day before, and cooed over how cozy she just  _ knew _ it would look on him. He had been decidedly dubious at the time, but on the upshot, it meant that he could get away without wearing a tie--a Christmas miracle, if he did say so himself.

Rey made a sound of glee as she came into the room and saw him; she looked lovely in her  long-sleeved, pearl white blouse and grey, flared trousers, along with last night’s black flats.

“Oh, it’s perfect!” she beamed, reaching to finger the soft wool strands.

“You look  beautiful,” he sighed, pulling her into his arms and giving her a kiss. “You know, I was gonna save this for later, but I think you ought to have it now…”

Rey’s eyebrow lifted.

“What?”

He let go of her and pulled one of the shopping bags out from under the bed, hunching over it to block the inside from view. A moment's rummaging produced a small, rectangular box, immaculately wrapped. 

“Merry Christmas, darlin.”

Inside was a beautiful matching solitaire necklace and pair of earrings, each with a sunburst of tiny diamonds surrounding a deep green emerald.

“Clyde Logan, whenever did you have time to do this?!” she gasped.

He shrugged, keeping his secrets, and Rey gave him a look that was at once exasperated, amazed, and fond.

“They’re beautiful,” she murmured.

“I wish I could put them on you,” he sighed.

“Oh, that’s alright,” she said. “Would you mind just moving my hair out of the way?”

Once she finished putting in her earrings, she stood, giving Clyde a peck on the cheek.

“Well, now you have to open mine, although it really doesn’t compare at all,” she fretted.

“It’s from you, darlin’. It’ll be perfect.”

He crouched back down to get the parcel she’d sent him, and opened it. Inside was a soft, woolen scarf in red and black, and wrapped gently inside the scarf itself was a framed photograph of Rey in that grey dress and white denim jacket, the frame decorated with complementing beadwork. Clyde was speechless, doing his best to blink away his tears.

“You…” his voice cracked under the weight of his emotions. “You gave me  _ you.” _

She hugged him with a happy sigh.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he finally managed to choke out.

“I love you, Clyde Logan.”

“And I love you, Rey Johnson,” he whispered into her hair, still not trusting his voice.

“Come on.” She squeezed him gently. “They’ll be waiting.”

* * *

Two days after the Storms’ Christmas celebration (the day after had been spent nursing both a rather embarrassing hangover and a decidedly-upset digestive tract), Clyde was approached by a suspiciously enthusiastic Finn  (Poe was enthusiastic too, but Clyde had come to accept this as his normal state of being).

“Hey man, how’s your stomach? Better?”

“Uh… yeah, it seems like it’s all back in order now.”

“Oh good, good…  why don’t you come to lunch with us? We’d both like to get to know you a little better. Just the lads, you know. Well, and Dad.”

Clyde could hardly object, so he nodded and shrugged on his coat. 

“Hey Peanut, you want to go to Mum and Dad’s?” 

“Nah, Kira and I are supposed to catch up today. A little girl time will do me some good.” 

Clyde frowned; he’d forgotten completely, but Rey didn’t seem to mind. She kissed Finn  and Poe on their cheeks, then gave Clyde a peck on the lips. 

“Meet me after?”

He nodded,  and the men stepped out into December’s post-Boxing Day bustle. Clyde did his best to fold himself into BB-8’s back seat,  and they rode into Peckham. It was Clyde’s first foray into the neighborhood, and he saw colorful stalls cheek-by-jowl with shuttered buildings, but everywhere, people were out and about, bustling merrily despite the weather that had been threatening a dreary downpour all morning. They got out in front of a shop whose air was heavy with fiery spices and the unmistakable smell of roasting meat,  where Francis was waiting for them.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” he enthused, smiling warmly.

“Hullo, Dad,” Finn replied, hugging him.

“ Hi Francis,” Poe smiled, giving him a second hug.

“Good afternoon, Francis,” Clyde nodded. Somehow, it still felt weird, but the older man  _ had _ asked to be called by his first name,  and it was less weird when Poe did it first.

The quartet walked into the shop, and Finn and Francis took their place in line, while Poe steered Clyde toward a table. He looked around and was almost immediately conscious of being one of two people in the very crowded shop who were  not Black. 

“So, Dameron, uh… did Finn seem a little…  _ excited _ to you?”

Poe smiled knowingly.

“If I told you, he’d kill me, and I have to live with him. You’re out of luck, Logan.”

Clyde’s face tilted heavenward, and he swallowed nervously, but he didn’t have long to wonder before Finn and Francis seated themselves around the table.

“So, ” Clyde reached for a conversation starter, “ what part of London are we in? This looks very different from Carnaby Street. I had an old travel guide once and it seemed like every few streets there was a different neighborhood.”

“This is Peckham, where I was born and grew up,” Finn said, his chest swelling with pride. Clearly, he loved his hometown. “Lot of Nigerians moving here since the Sixties.”

“Yes,” Francis nodded, smiling. “Esther and I moved here right after we got married in Lagos. I was married on Saturday, ordained on Sunday, and we left Nigeria for London that Wednesday.”

Clyde blinked, impressed.

“That’s a long way away from family. How’d you manage, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Clyde’s clearly-foreign accent was a matter of interest, and an older woman sauntered over. All four men stood at her approach.

“The Reverend Francis, Young Finn! Good afternoon! How are you feeling, Francis?”

“Well, good afternoon, Abigail! I’m doing quite well!” Francis replied. “How was your Christmas?”

“It was lovely, Francis! You know I love those grandchildren of mine, and I hardly get to see them anymore, now that Funmi and her husband are in Glasgow,” she sighed. “Esther is doing well, I trust?”

“Indeed, she is! Fiji was very restful for both of us,” he sighed. 

“Oh, I’ll bet it was! And you, young Finn? How are you?”

“I’m well, ma’am,” Finn replied, “thank you.”

“And who are your… friends?” 

There was a lurking insinuation behind her words and her tone that Finn opted to ignore.

“You remember my sister, Rey, ma’am?”

“Oh, yes, how could I not!” Abigail smiled.

“This is her, er--” Finn fumbled for an appropriate word, settling for Abigail’s own--  _ “friend.” _

Clyde offered his hand, still unsure after Christmas Eve whether it was proper form to shake a lady’s hand, but ultimately decided that consistency was probably for the best--after all, being called ‘old-fashioned’ didn’t really bother him at all. She happened to offer her hand knuckles-up anyway, so he grasped it gently and inclined his head.

“Clyde Logan, ma’am.”

She blinked, astonished.

“An American? And so  _ polite! _ Well well!”

Clyde gave a slight smile, praying that  someone would save him from awkward small talk with an opinionated stranger.  Poe, clearly accustomed to flying in to the rescue, offered his hand and his most dazzling smile.

“Poe Dameron. I’m Finn’s husband.”

To Abigail’s credit, she hardly blinked.

“Not one American, but two, I see! So it’s a sort of… family outing?”

“Indeed, my dear Abigail! Clyde has come in to town to meet us.”

“How charming!” 

Their conversation was interrupted by t he kitchen hand, who hurried to their table bearing several dishes.

“Abigail, will you eat with us?” Francis offered, all politesse.

“Oh no, Francis, I am at a table over there with Monifa, as you see. I’ve neglected her too long.” She concluded with a phrase Clyde did not understand, but one that both Finn and Francis seemed to repeat back to her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Abigail!” Poe smiled.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Clyde offered, and the four men sat down.

Finn exhaled sharply, and Francis regarded him with a mild, sympathetic look. Clyde could see Abigail sit back down at her table, and realized their table was the topic of discussion, as Monifa looked over at them openly. He did his best to shrink; he hated being the subject of gossip, and yet it seemed to happen so naturally. The pungent aroma of liquid fire and charred meat wouldn’t let him stew in self-pity for long, though. 

Finn tore grumpily into a chicken skewer, letting the pungent spices burn away some of his malcontent, while Francis took something that Clyde thought might have been meat, but then again, chicken gizzard  _ was _ on the menu. Clyde reached for one that he hoped was beef. 

“No reason to let anything upset you, babe,” Poe soothed his disgruntled husband, patting his knee, and Finn’s shoulders relaxed a little. The ease was not to last. 

“So,” Francis said so casually he might have been discussing the weather, “you’re the man Rey set herself on fire for.”

Clyde made the unfortunate mistake of inhaling, only to get a flaming fist to the back of the throat. He coughed in surprise, blinking rapidly as heat and spice assailed every orifice in his head. He hadn’t had anything this intensely spicy since leaving the army, and even then, he was pretty sure none of it measured up to this--and his surprised intake of breath hadn’t helped matters.  Poe gave a sympathetic ‘ooh!’ and a wince;  Finn handed him a thick napkin, a knowing, and maybe slightly evil, smirk on his face, and gave him a ringing slap on the back. Clyde groped for his lager, half-blind with tears and burning from the inside out.

After a few bites of salad, Clyde trusted his mouth enough to speak, his voice singed.

“Francis, if you’d wanted to punch me in the throat, I’m pretty sure Finn would have made a respectable job of it.”

Francis had the good grace to look contrite, but his eyes were still sparking with mischief.

“How was I to know you would inhale it? Still, nothing can be as spicy as that first bite, right?”

Clyde took another swig of his beer.

“I suppose--” he cleared his throat, his nose still burning-- “that’s true. And to answer your earlier question, yes, Rey told me back in October that she’d reached into a burning fireplace to save the letters I wrote to her. Back when I first got home after the IED--” he indicated his prosthesis-- “I wrote to her, but the letters were returned undeliverable, with a letter explaining that Unkar’d assaulted the courier, so the office couldn’t deliver her letters there anymore and didn’t know where she’d gone. Someone in the office added a sticky note to let me know that child welfare had been called on Rey’s behalf. It was all I could do for her, and I had to let her go.” 

Clyde took a cautious deep breath, feeling as though his nerves--or the lingering heat--would completely strangle him at any moment.  Poe’s attention was rapt as he chowed down on a chicken skewer.

“It sounds odd to say about someone I’d never met face-to-face, but I thought of Rey like my little sister’s best friend. I worried about her, and hoped that she was alright and being taken care of, and happy. When she came to see me, I found out that she had been, and I was-- _ am-- _ so grateful. But when she came to West Virginia, I also found out that she thought about me in a different way than I’d ever thought about her. She’s...” Clyde was full-on rambling now, doing his best to get all of this out before he lost his nerve. “She’s the most loving, amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I’m lucky to know her. Once before--” he nodded toward his prosthesis again, a small gesture that spoke volumes-- “I thought my luck had run out, and fate had taken her out of my life. I don’t know that I could take it a second time, and I believe that she feels the same way."

“I love her,” he declared at last, “more than anyone or anything in this world, and, with your permission, I would like to ask her to marry me.”

Finn nearly choked on his own skewer, looking for all the world like he was going to breathe fire , while Poe sat beside him, misty-eyed and almost mooning .

“What on earth does Dad have to do with it? Did you ask Rey and she told you no, or something?” he asked hotly, affronted on her behalf that anyone but Rey would so much as think about making that decision for her.

“You’re right, Rey is her own woman, and she’ll say yes or no on her own, but! My mama raised me a gentleman, and my daddy would come up out of his grave and box my ears if I didn’t ask her father for his okay first,” Clyde shot back. “It might be 2016, but some things still should be done the old-fashioned way.”

Francis beamed approvingly.

“Now, Finn,” he admonished gently, “there are traditions, ways of doing things that--”

“‘That bind community together,’ dad, yes I know-- ” His words crashed to a halt as came to a sudden realization. He rounded on his husband.

“Did  _ you _ ask dad?!” he demanded.

“Our community never really  _ had _ a tradition for a man asking for another man’s hand, son,” Francis gently replied. “You two have blazed a trail for others to follow.”

“Would that change your answer?” Poe asked, uncharacteristically subdued and gentle.

Finn gaped.

_ “What?” _

“Life is a lot easier when you know the love of your life’s family accepts you,” he reasoned quietly. “Yes, Finn, before I asked you to marry me, I discussed it with Francis. I didn’t ask for  _ permission, _ but I needed to know.”

Finn blinked several times, but  still looked ready to erupt, and he added a dab of hot sauce onto his next skewer, tearing into it with a vengeance. Clyde swallowed involuntarily, but followed suit, picking up a second skewer of his own, with its own dollop of hot sauce, not one to be intimidated or outdone. He immediately, albeit silently, regretted both his decision and the brief burst of machismo (whether West Virginian male or military in origin, his swimming vision and the ringing in his ears made it difficult to consider) that had encouraged it.  Poe gave a long-suffering sigh, and took a swig of beer.

“However,” Francis continued, pausing occasionally to take bites from his skewer as if it were nothing spicier than candy, “I asked my father for permission to marry, and the entire family went to Esther’s house to ask her father for her hand, as my father’s family did with my mother’s family. Christianized we may have been, but most men of my father’s and grandfather’s generations would not have allowed their daughters to take up with someone ‘too modern’ to respect his prospective father-in-law’s family. A man who does not show proper respect for a woman's family cannot be trusted to show the proper respect for  _ her.” _

He addressed a sweating, dazed Clyde more directly, and the larger man strained to hear him through the dizzy confusion that had overtaken his senses at the overwhelming spicy heat that continued to assault them.

“I appreciate your understanding of the importance of tradition, however, with respect to Rey, Finn has always been her protector, far more than Esther or myself. If he believes that you will be a good husband to Rey, you have my blessing.”

Finn froze mid-bite, then pointed the skewer meaningfully at Clyde,  his agitation showing more and more in his thickening accent and choice of slang.

“Look, man, she’s gaga over you, and she’d probably kick my arse if I tried to tell you you couldn’t ask her, or tell her she couldn’t say yes--and she will say yes, bruv, you gotta know that--just… you can’t, you know, you can’t hurt her. She’s been through so much, and she died when she thought you were gone. Don’t ever hurt her like that again.”

Clyde blinked back tears that he could thankfully blame on the spices.

“I don’t think I know how, to be honest with you. I can’t even tell her no,” he admitted, his voice a smoking ruin.

“So you’re going to whisk Rey off to America, then, are you?” Francis took a few bites of rice and salad before reaching for another skewer. 

Clyde blanched, then reached for the back of his neck.

“About that, actually… no.”

Francis and Finn both went absolutely still, and looked at each other.  Poe grinned and went so far as to pump a fist in the air before reaching for another skewer.

“Don’t you have a bar to run?”  Finn asked, confused.

“I  _ did, _ _ ” _ Clyde corrected. “ I sold it. I intend to stay here with her. My sister is the only family I’m close to, and I can’t ask Rey to give up her family for me.”

Francis frowned, looking like he was reconsidering his praise.

“How will you provide for her?”

Clyde leaned forward, his voice low.

“Selling the bar netted me a fair amount of money, and like I said, the loan was paid off. If Rey says yes, I plan to get married and get a little place of our own, then set up a business of my own here, maybe buy a little pub and run it, or help Rey to open a garage.”

“You’re serious? Like, really serious?” Finn sounded stunned.

Clyde looked stricken , even when Poe put a brotherly hand on his shoulder.

“Yes! Ex-pats!” he grinned . 

“I can't say that we'd be at all unhappy to have Rey so close,” Francis opined at last, sitting back, “but  Poe and Finn can tell you just how much paperwork it’s going to be. If you want to make it happen and are willing to  _ do _ the work, with God's help, nothing is impossible. However, I think it will be to your advantage to make your proposal sooner rather than later; it could take months to get  all of the documents in order, and your visa won’t last more than six months. ”

Clyde nodded.

“I already have something in mind.”

Clyde’s tongue was still sore and his throat a little raw after lunch when the trio parted ways with Francis.

“So, uh… I could use the name of a good jeweler.”

Poe gave Clyde what could only be described as a ‘sizing-up’ look.

“‘Good’ as in principled, or ‘good’ as in ‘has the kind of stock you only see in a vault?’”

“Oh, babe,  _ no,” _ Finn groaned, grimacing.

Clyde was silent for a long moment.

“ Not really looking to buy anything stolen, Poe .”  _ My life of crime is over,  _ he added silently, praying that Poe wasn’t going to pull a Jimmy on him.

“ No!  Not…  _ stolen, _ as such. Lot of underground sources, no storefront, but what he has is unique. Not what you’d find in your typical jeweler’s shop, or even in most of your pawnbrokers.”

Clyde frowned, but he  _ had _ asked.

“Alright, but if there’s no storefront, how do we…?”

“Leave it to me,”  Poe waved the other man off, and stepped aside to make a phone call. 

Finn pulled Clyde aside, his movements furtive and urgent.

“Listen, Clyde, Poe means to help, but you can just tell him no.”

Clyde simply stared expectantly.

“He’s… look, he’s just a really shifty guy. Kind of an eccentric, not all there.” Finn gestured at his head in a universal sign for ‘crazy.’ “He’s always got a cover story for where he gets his goods, but--”

“ Good news!” Poe exclaimed, rejoining them. “ He says he can meet us in an hour down at the  Greyhound .”

Clyde shrugged.

“Can’t hurt to take a look.”

That was how Clyde found himself sitting in a dimly-lit, surprisingly noisy pub across from  a man in a grimy cap and fingerless gloves who was every bit as shifty-looking as Finn had suggested.

“What can I do for you gents?”

“DJ, Clyde. Clyde, DJ.” Poe introduced them. “Clyde  needs an engagement ring.”

“Ring or b-bridal set?”

“Uh,” Clyde hesitated, “definitely the first, but if you have the right set I’ll take it.”

DJ gave Clyde a long, assessing look, then shrugged and put on a pair of goggles. A turn of a knob on the side of the frame clicked a lens into place over the right eye.  He set a portable case on the table, then produced a unique-looking key from a hidden pocket in his trenchcoat (because of COURSE he was wearing a trenchcoat, Clyde mentally groused) and used it to unlock the case.

What lay inside made Clyde’s jaw  _ drop. _ There were diamonds, of course, but the occasional sapphire or pearl as well; gold rings, antique rings, and a whistle-clean silver that must have been platinum. The glitter and shine were almost hypnotic. DJ turned the case to give his clients a better view, and a flash of green arrested Clyde’s attention. 

“What about that one?” he suddenly asked, pointing. 

“Picked that one up in Berkshire; estate sale.  Dowager heiress, twenty cats, lots of jewelry.” At least as much for the cats as her,” he snorted, slapping his knee as if he’d told a sidesplitter.

Clyde’s eyes darted to Finn, whose face was a moue of distaste, and then to Poe, who simply shrugged.

“Let’s see it, then,” Poe suggested.

DJ handed Clyde a little teardrop-shaped lens, and then held out the diamond ring.

“Uh,” Clyde shifted. “Finn, could you--?”

DJ cocked his head, confused, until he finally noticed Clyde’s left arm.

“Nasty bit of work! I guess you won’t be needing one of these,” he chuckled not-quite-to-himself, seeming unaware of the veil of awkwardness that was settling over the table until he looked up and noticed Poe’s minute, rapid gestures to move the subject along. The businessman cleared his throat.

“Good color on the diamond,” DJ began clinically, “but it’s got a couple of small inclusions. Emeralds are genuine, three leaves on each side of the solitaire.”

Finn helpfully held the lens up to Clyde’s eye, and he turned the ring back and forth a couple of times, then offered it to his companions, who declined. When he returned it to DJ, the strange man exchanged the solitaire for the wedding band, an intricate and wide band of vines, dotted with diamond and emerald leaves.

Clyde didn’t bother with the loupe.

“This is it. How much?”

DJ tipped his head back and forth, then pulled out a tiny pocket calculator. 

“Overall carat weight… platinum…” he muttered, punching in numbers. He looked up at Clyde. “The engagement band can be s-sized, but the bridal band--” his tongue seemed to get tied to the roof of his mouth-- “not so much.”

“What size are these?” Clyde asked, frowning.

“About a six.”

Clyde nodded.

“So what are you asking?”

“£2200,” DJ pronounced, sitting back.

“Okay,” Clyde nodded, ignoring the slack-jawed shock beside him. “I assume cash is preferred?”

A smirk lit up the man’s face.

“Good assumption.”

“You meet me back here again this week, and I’ll have the money. What day?”

“Thursday lunch?”

“Done.”

DJ reached over to shake Clyde’s hand.

“Nice doing business with you,” he nodded, and left.

“Damn, Logan, you don’t play!”

Clyde fixed Poe with a skeptical look.

“It’s Rey; why would I?”

Finn whistled.

* * *

“Hey, Mel. You busy?”

“Not too busy to talk to you, Clyde. Everything going okay over there?”

“I think so. I met her family, and they seem to like me alright.”

“Well that’s good!”

“You getting along okay?”

“Oh, yeah, you know. Jimmy’s been pissing and moaning about the trailer.” She lowered her pitch to mock their brother. “‘You know how hard it is to sell a place in December?’”

“I guess so,” he replied thoughtfully, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt under the amusement. “How’s Duck Tape?”

“I… haven’t really been over there since you left. Seems like tempting fate, you know?”

Clyde tipped his head from side to side. 

“That’s fair. So Mellie, I bought a ring today. I'm gonna ask her on New Year’s Eve.”

Had the window been open, Mellie’s squeal of delight probably could have been heard without the benefit of the phone.

“New Year’s Eve, well you always were a romantic! What does it look like?”

“Diamond, of course, with emerald leaves in a vine on the band.

“Wow, sounds fancy!” Mellie teased, unable to disguise her joy. “I’m so happy for you, Clyde! Are you still staying with her family?”

“No, I got a hotel room earlier today. They’re nice people and I don’t mind staying, but…”

_ “Right…,” _ Mellie teased. He could practically hear her wink, and rolled his eyes. “So when will I see you again?” 

“At the wedding, probably.”

He winced at her shriek of excitement, holding the phone away from his ear.

“Well, we’ll have to find a way to talk face-to-face before that!”

“Mel, you know as soon as we get set up, you can come any time.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you though.”

“I know, Mel. Happy New Year, if we don’t talk before then. Love you.”

“Happy New Year, brother… I think this one’s gonna be really different. It’s about time, I say. Love you too.”

* * *

“So here we are, in a hotel in South London on New Year's Eve. What do you want to do?”

Rey was wrapped in a towel, another wound around her wet hair, rifling through the closet.

“You hungry?” Clyde asked,  moving up behind her and kissing her naked shoulders. The sounds of the city came in through the closed window, cars and buses and people, the rapidly lengthening shadows bathing the room in the glow of the holiday lights still strung up all over town. 

“Mmm, always,” she replied, turning to kiss him languidly.

“You wanna go out for New Year's or stay in?” He stroked her cheek, and she smiled, closing her eyes and leaning in before looking in his eyes.

“Would you be disappointed if I said out?”

He shook his head.

“I offered, didn't I?”

“True!” she laughed, kissing him again, and he held her close, reveling in her nearness that still felt fleeting and ephemeral.

“Besides,” he continued, “I like taking you places. I like going places with you, which I never really have with anyone.”

She smiled, her whole being aglow.

“Alright, well, I’d better get ready, then,” she nodded, and turned back toward the closet.

“Did you bring that pretty green dress with you, darlin’?”

“I did! So where are we going?”

All of a sudden, his pocket was on fire;  this was the perfect opening to ask her! He felt like there were pins pricking him all over, and the hairs on his arms stood on end.

“I would go anywhere with you. I would follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond.”

He  managed to get the ring out and get down on one knee just in time for her to turn around to see what his sudden hyperbole was about. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as an excited gasp nearly muffled Clyde’s next words.

“Tell me you want me to?”

Her  _ yes! _ was both ecstatic and voluble; she launched herself into his arms and kissed him. Clyde put the ring on her finger , and anchored himself to her, sure that he would float away otherwise. Beautiful, sexy, loyal, compassionate Rey had just agreed to be his wife! He was, without a doubt, the happiest man on earth. He kissed her back, putting his lips to hers again and again, getting a thrill up his spine each time that he was kissing his fianceé, a woman who loved him so fiercely that she’d crossed an ocean to find him; a woman he adored so utterly that he’d crossed an ocean so they would never be lonely again.

They never quite made it out the door , her green dress laying in a forgotten heap near the closet .

Somehow, even taking the long way around, 2017, and the rest of their life together, made it on time anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who have read and loved this story for so long, even when the writing just wasn't coming! You have inspired and driven me to keep coming back to this story. Only the epilogue to go, now!


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